Deadlines
by wherethepeopleare
Summary: AU. Kurt is nearly 20 and still works at Vogue. His work life is going swimmingly until a dapper young charmer waltzes his way into the building. They make powerful enemies of each other. But is Blaine's arrogance a cover up? A story where hatred and spite grows into affection and love.
1. Hell Hole

**Author's Note/ Yes, Blaine is a little out of character at the start of this fic. That is quite intentional so don't hate me because he's not exactly like he is in the show because he will be, in time. I've just gone for a slightly different approach, just read it before you make assumptions. There will be happy Klaine but for now, there needs to be a little diversity from the generic fic, right?**

**Hell Hole**

February 5th 2013

"Hello, Vogue_com, can I help you?"

A whirr of frantic tones, telephone rings and a faint buzz of a photocopier. It was all happening in the office that day. The reason? New York fashion week was to commence in two days. Of course, the effect on an employee would depend on the place they sat on the social hierarchy of the fashion magazine. But, whether you were a janitor or editor in chief, you knew fashion week was approaching as you couldn't even be in an elevator with someone without receiving a headache from their incessant panicking. The usual claps of stilettos on marble had quickened in pace over the last two weeks, everyone seemed to be in a desperate rush to get to where they need to be. Well, it's understandable once you realise how much is on the line. The website would be responsible for blogging the entire goings on, posting photos from every single event and most importantly, keeping the rest of the world informed on what could only be described as the most important event in fashion. Responsibilities were assigned to every single person working underneath the ceiling, and if said person failed to deliver, they could kiss their career goodbye prematurely. The rumour circulating is that only last year, an employee spelt Cavalli wrong in a photo caption and now, she works at McDonald's. Isabelle Wright was trying to remain calm, hoping her sanity would hold out for another nine days then she could sleep for a month. Of course, she had to be at every single meeting and every single runway and every single party. The girl had a lot to think about. So, of course, she had to have someone to handle some of the work- in fact, she had three.

Miss Wright's three assistants included a short, red haired, bubbly character with the nickname of Dusty; Travis, a 6ft 3 blonde young man with black rimmed glasses and retro dress sense and a newly appointed enthusiastic bright spark: Kurt Hummel. Previously an intern, Isabelle had been so impressed with Kurt's keen eye for fashion that she appointed him as her third assistant at the start of the year. Only 19 and already employed under one of the top names in Vogue; the boy's done good.

"Yes, yes, we'll make sure it's sent... okay, thank you, bye," he groaned and threw his forehead onto his fists.

"Cheer up, could be worse," Travis chuckled, reaching over Kurt's desk to grab a mug to pour his black coffee into.

"Could it? Could it really?" Kurt's eye line stayed lifted, staring up at his friend like he'd said the most ludicrous thing in history.

"Well, someone's had a bad day," as the sandy haired man perched on the end of the small, yet chic desk, he tentatively balanced his lips on the rim of the mug as he waited for the long rant that was sure to come. His comment almost went unheard due to the sound of a squeal from an almost passed out worker, luckily she managed to detect the glass door was actually there before she slammed into it.

Kurt groaned again, pushing himself away from the phone on his wheelie chair, "A bad day I could handle, but a bad day with a headache just makes me want to put a bin over my head and lie on that pile of faux fur coats," as he rubbed his temples, the pain subsided a little but not enough for an announcement.

A small packet of aspirin then landed over the files on Kurt's desk as if Dusty was some fairy godmother who entered every room with a solution to the problem.

"They might help," she smiled brightly, going over to sit on Kurt's lap and hug him round the neck, "Awww... poor thing,"

Travis just laughed into his coffee and shook his head as his colleague scratched at the hair by Kurt's ears.

Dusty Knight had long, curly bright red hair that reached just about her waist. Usually she would be seen in a shit, pleated skirt and tucked in sleeveless blouse- depending on what Isabelle seemed to be fashioning at the time, of course. A button nose was where her rimless glasses sat, her fringe balancing on the top of her specs. She looked a bit like a mix between a Japanese school girl and Katy Perry.

"Thanks, I appreciate it," was all Kurt said through his partly closed lips.

"Take it with a drink, sweetie," with a kiss to his cheek, she bounced off towards the ladies room. Travis looking understandably bemused as he set down the mug and eyed Kurt curiously.

"Does she always flirt like that with you?"

That certainly opened the blue eyes hidden underneath tired lids, even causing a smile for the first time all day, "What? Oh my God I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that,"

"Oh come on,"

"Come on what? It's friendly, she's my friend. My friend who is fully aware that if I went to the Moulin Rouge I would be less interested in the nipple tassels and more on the detailing and sequins on their head-dresses," leaning back in his chair as he giggled, Kurt rolled his eyes.

"I'm just saying, she's been more than friendly for a while now," he sipped his coffee, "I think she might be hoping to draw your eyes away from head dresses and more down south,"

"Oh get out of here," he shook his head, swatting his arm playfully before watching the boy leave with a confused look on his face. Sure, he loved Dusty like a sister or a best friend but there was seriously no way he would ever consider a rendez-vous of any kind with her. For now, he would dismiss it and refuse to pay any attention to the ridiculous views and opinions of Travis Baldwin. Whom, he had never really seemed to go for either. Obviously he was more his type, but nothing ever clicked romantically. There was one occasion, when they had first met, during Kurt's first week. There might have been the odd flirtatious email sent and wandering eyes across the office but that soon dissolved into a playful and comfortable friendship.

"Kurt, if you get that list of guests I need to talk to at the first runway done in ten minutes you can leave early," Isabelle totted past him, her eyes not leaving a huge folder she had held tightly with both hands. As soon as she arrived in Kurt's eye sight, she disappeared through a pair of glass double doors.

"Got it," he chewed his lip and took in a deep breath before starting to tap away at the computer. Kurt's eyebrows were furrowed in concentration for the best part of ten minutes, fingers already cramping at the rate of his typing. All around him the chaos was getting worse. He'd never been in such a hostile environment before, everyone was so touchy. He didn't dare speak to anyone outside of Isabelle and his two colleagues in case they bite his ears off. 'It's only a week' he kept telling himself, 'Then things will return to normality.

"Hey," his train of thought was interrupted by the sight of Dusty's smiling face resting on the end of his desk. Now that Travis had placed the seed of suspicion in his head, it was all his could think about.

"Hey Dusty," Kurt replied, his eyes only briefly leaving the computer screen.

"Whatcha doing for Valentine's day?"

"Well, considering it'll be the end of Fashion week, I'll be sleeping and trying to recover from the stress which I'm sure has formed a bubble at the back of my head,"

"But we get a night off! You should enjoy it!" she rose to her feet and bounced a little on her heels.

Suddenly, all attention on Dusty or the computer was taken away by the sight that caught Kurt;s eye without warning. His jaw dropped an inch, eyes glazed over as he fell into a daze.

"Kurt?" she turned to inspect what had turned her friend into a zombie.

There, stood behind the glass doors leading to Miss Wright's office was a dark haired gentlemen laughing charmingly as he stood from the leather chair, kissing her cheek as if they were closing some sort of deal. He placed both hands on hers and looked as if he was thanking her, while she looked to be positively swooning. And who wouldn't? The man had some sort of Fred Astaire or Frank Sinatra about him. He seemed to emit charm and charisma without even trying. A dark blue suede blazer sat over his dark shirt while his pants were tight and also very fashionable. The man smiled as if he had won prizes for it, perfect teeth that could have only been achieved through years of braces sat behind pink lips. It was liked heaven had sent down perfection as an apology for the hell hole that Vogue had become lately. Kurt could definitely consider finding a religion in whatever God created this fine specimen.

"Oh my God,"

Dusty immediately spun round to look at Kurt, "What? Him? Really? He's...h-he's nothing... he's not even," after one more look at the mystery man, she gave up and slumped down on the desk, "He's beautiful,"

"Yeah, you're telling me," the brunette boy had suddenly found himself grinning, chin rested in his linked fingers like a pathetic little love struck school girl. Like it was planned, Travis then came speeding over to kneel beside Kurt.

"Have you seen him?" he asked excitedly.

"Yeah," Kurt and Dusty said in dazed unison.

* * *

"Listen, I can't thank you enough for giving me this opportunity, even giving me an interview in this extremely stressful time is enough for me to worship at your feet,"

"Oh, stop it, just make sure you're here Thursday, on time,"

"I will be, Miss Wright, thank you again, so much," the new employee grinned brightly at her and then turned to leave. As soon as his eyes settled on what was in front of him, all he could see was two men and a red head staring right at him. All that was needed was a bemused look from the man and suddenly they all dispersed, seeming to get back on with work. A little confused but flattered at the incident, Blaine Anderson waltzed down the corridor to the first boy he noticed of the three gawkers.

* * *

"Hey, do you know who I have to talk to to get a coffee?"

Kurt nearly jumped at the sudden hand that was resting on top of a pile of papers in front of him and the deep, old hollywood tone of voice that was asking him about coffee. It was only as his eyes lifted that he forgot about every coffee machine in the entire building. His eyes were the first thing that stopped his throat working, they were a perfect mixture of meadow green and hazelnut. Kurt then suddenly wanted every room in his house painted the colour of those scrumptious eyes.

"Oh...w-well, I think um...well, there's a Starbucks just down the block I think," before Kurt could finish his disastrous sentence, Blaine was picking up the one file he really shouldn't have and going to open it.

"No, actually, you can't look in that, it's um, secret, it's a confidential file of Miss Wright's," he went to reach it back from the man who was smugly dancing his fingers over the corners of the card.

To Kurt's surprise, Blaine just laughed and rested it in between in side and forearm, "Actually, I'm coming to get it for Isabelle. See, she just hired me as her second in command for Fashion week, so basically, I will attend every runway show with her, every party and then return to at the end of the wondrous week to be on her team,"

And in one sentence, Kurt couldn't have been less attracted to this new man. Just the arrogance with which he informed Kurt that all his hopes had been shattered was enough to put a frown right on his face. His charm had dissolved into cockiness and it wasn't attractive at all. Those eyes now just reminded Kurt of the time he went walking with his dad in a muddy field and fell over into a ditch. He was disenchanted already with the charm that now just sickened him.

"I b-beg your pardon?" he muttered out, almost inaudibly.

"Yeah, so, I'm actually above you. You can't tell me which files I can and can't have,"

Kurt was completely stunned.

"By the way, your legs look fantastic in those jeans," Blaine winked at him, then proceeded to swan off to Isabelle's office like he owned the place.

* * *

"Isabelle!"

An angry Kurt threw open the doors to her office and stood there, arms folded over his chest as she looked like a deer in the headlights of her assistant's fury.

"Why did you employ that utter douche bag to go with you to all of the shows and parties?"

"Kurt..."

"No, listen, you promised Travis, Dusty and I that it would be one of us, you said you would decide today and we've been working our asses off trying to impress you. And then you go and employ a young Simon Cowell out of the blue when you had three perfectly good candidates for the job!"

"Kurt, please,"she tried to interject, but was over powered by the raging boy in red arguing with her.

"This is so not like you, and I know I may be talking out of line here and I know I'm not supposed to address my boss in this way but I'm only saying what poor Travis and Dusty are too nice to say. I just... how can you find potential in a man who uses more hair product than Ross in the early seasons of Friends."

And just at that, the leather chair in front of him spun round to reveal a still smug looking Blaine, legs crossed and his elbow resting on the side. "Hi there,"

Kurt froze for a second, eyes darting from the asshole to his boss repeatedly.

"I did try to say, Kurt..." she sighed and walked over to him, "Listen... I know I promised it to one of you guys but I just couldn't decide between the three of you, I didn't want you guys falling out over it or anything. And plus, if I have Blaine with me, I know I can trust that I have three very hard working, amazing people making sure all my commitments and schedule stays managed back here! And you can still come to the Cavalli show, I promised you all that didn't I?"

The brunette was still fuming at the bitter betrayal, but he had managed to soften for the sole purpose of not wanting a scene in front of Mr Dick.

He sighed loudly and stopped looking at Blaine completely, "Fine... fine, fine. Just, you can tell the other two because I'm not," turning on his heels, with his head hung low, he left and tried to stop the tears that were brewing.

Blaine's eyes saddened instantly, but soon brightened so he could speak to Isabelle without her detecting any problems.

* * *

Three hot pretzels were bought from a questionable man in Times Square that night, one ate a little more aggressively than the others.

"Are you still angry?

"Yes! Aren't you?" Kurt spat towards Travis, mouth full of pretzel.

"Sure I am, but you gotta build a big sparkly gay bridge and skip over it,"

"Trav, we're both gay, it doesn't have to be a competition to see how can be the most fabulous," he grunted around his food.

Dusty laughed and looked up at them, "Put the claws back in, girls"

"Don't you think it's crazy though? We've worked so hard for her and suddenly we're replaced by a newer model...God I feel like the Phantom," he tilted his head back and groaned in utter annoyance.

"Stop being such a drama queen, there'll be other opportunities like these, better ones, and we'll be the ones to get them, not him," the taller boy shrugged, completely nonchalant about the whole thing.

The brunette boy raised an eyebrow and nudged him with his elbow, "How are you so sure?"

Dusty watched him with just as much curiosity, taking Kurt's side as she always did.

"Well, because, people like us don't work as hard as we do just to get nothing in return. Some people, like that new guy get what they want through charm and looks, and us, the awkward plainer looking guys need to use a little more elbow grease to get what they want,"

There was a brief pause between the group, until Kurt scoffed and rolled his eyes, "Speak for yourself,"

The three then carried on walking through the city in a close huddle until it was time to part and return home for another night.

**AN/ Yes, this was short, I'm aware. They'll get longer but this was just a taster. Please review!**

**Laura x**


	2. Blue

**Blue **

February 7th- The first day of New York Fashion Week.

"...and I bet he gets all the freebies. Did you know that once, they gave away keys to porches in those bags?"

"I highly doubt they did that,"

"Well anyway, the point is, I can't bare the fact that he gets to enjoy all the delights that the clothing world has to offer when he doesn't deserve as much as a look in the window of Saks," since he and Blaine had met, Kurt hadn't really stopped ranting about him. Whether it was a comment on his clothing options or more reasons to find him revolting, the name 'Blaine Stupid Anderson' had been embedded in Travis and Dusty's mind so much it was driving them from sanity.

"Yeah I know he's such a dick. So, anyway," the redhead edged her way closer to Kurt, playing with his long fingers, "Y'know how we were talking about Valentine's day? I just mean because I'm not doing anything and I know you're not doing anything...well, you might be, but..."

As she continued to ramble, Kurt caught the eye of his blonde haired friend who raised both of his eyebrows at him. Kurt stuck his tongue into his cheek, completely ignoring the fact that his quite obviously confused friend was resting her chin on his shoulder.

"Kurt?"

"Oh...um... listen, I think I have a thing with my Dad, yeah...he's flying over and Valentine's is kinda hard for him so I think I'll take him to The Book of Mormon," nodding with a fake look of disappointment on his face, he took a sip from his bottle of water and then turned to Travis as a way to help him escape from the awkward situation.

Dusty just retreated a little and began playing with her own fingers, nails chewed from endless hours of anxiety and nervousness. She emitted a tiny 'Oh' sound and covered it with a forced cough, "Yeah well, that's fine, I'll just call my cousin I think she's in town," wiping at her heavily mascara covered eyes, she then leapt from her seat and raced over to the ladies room with not so much as a 'Be right back'. The brunette 19 year old drew his eyebrows closer together and turned his palms to the sky.

"Is she serious? I mean, I feel awful about her being upset but surely she can't be that surprised that I don't want a romantic evening with her,"

Travis, pausing to bite his thumb nail, took a moment to try and comprehend what was going on inside the pint sized girl's mind, "Well...she does seem to go for more... flamboyant men, right? Like that ice dancer last Easter? And the..."

"Hair stylist," they recalled in unison, nodding their heads as they began to piece together Dusty's 'type'.

"But if she keeps going for guys like that she's just going to get hurt," Kurt said, holding a half eaten sandwich to his lips.

Travis was sat on the end of Kurt's desk like he always did, observing the goings on of their tight knit group, "Poor thing,"

Kurt nodded, then scoffed down the rest of his sandwich.

All was still just as fast paced in the building, the pulse beating to the sound of Fashion Week with no intention of slowing down. The events would take place, and the website would have to be on it straight away. Reporting from every single angle, making sure no outfit was left un accounted for. Stress levels were high.

On the other side of town, however, the situation couldn't have juxtaposed more. Conversation was flowing as the most prestigious names in fashion took their seats at the Tadashi Shoji show. Bright lights beamed down to the lines of chairs lined up on either sides of the catwalk, only half full at the moment. With half an hour to go until showtime, the only people there at the moment were assistants and photographers. Obviously the phrase 'fashionably late' came from the fashion greats themselves. Blaine was walking to find his and Isabelle's seats, as soon as they were located, he sent her a quick text to say where they were and planted his tush on the seat. A perfect opportunity then sprung into his mind, the perfect way to just rub more salt into the wounds and more importantly, get to hear the voice he'd taken a liking to.

"Hello, Isabelle Wright isn't here at the moment can I take a message?"

"You can take this huge smile off my face if you think you can,"

"Who is this?" Kurt sat upright in his chair a little, not wanting the voice he slightly recognised to belong to the man that made his skin crawl.

"Who do you think it is, doll?" the dapper young gentleman laughed down the receiver.

Suddenly, the tone of Kurt's voice dropped as did the rest of his face, "Blaine,"

Blaine smiled widely, "Awh, you remember me!"

"What do you want?"

"I just wanted to let you know that I am currently sat on the second row of the Tadashi Shoji show. Boy, it sure looks swell here," tilting his head back as he took in the sights for himself, he waited for the sound of Kurt's annoyance.

Kurt rolled his eyes, grip on the phone tightening, "That's just wonderful, so wonderful. Thank you, so much for taking the time out from your busy schedule to tell me all about it," just as he was inches way from hanging up, his dashing voice flooded from the phone and made him reluctantly listen to what he had to say.

"Oh hey, a freebie bag," Blaine dug under his seat and had a peak in the gift bag, "Jeez, what am I to do with all these vouchers? Any ideas, Kurt?"

The boy on the other end scoffed, leaning on his desk as if Blaine was on the other side of it taking all the anger he had to give him, "I bet you're loving this, aren't you? Imagining me, stuck in this very cold building while you get to experience everything I have ever dreamed of since I was four. If it wasn't for you I would have been doing the things that my mothe-"

"Oops, sorry, must go, Isabelle's here. Oh she looks ravishing, bye!"

And with that, the harsh ring of the dial tone commenced in Kurt's ear. His lips pursed as he threw the phone to the desk in rage.

* * *

"_And I think that's the editor of Vogue! You know that magazine I sometimes let you look at?" Mrs Hummel nodded towards her observant little boy, smiling up brightly at her like she was a princess as the TV behind him was broadcasting the highlights of New York Fashion week nodded and then turned his head quickly to watch the events unfolding on the screen. He found himself completely taken in by the different colours and patterns on the dresses that the girls wore. He saw no reason why he couldn't dress in those bright and inspiring colours if it looked so beautiful to him. Every time a new outfit was presented, butterflies went crazy in his stomach like an instinctive reaction. _

"_Do you like all those clothes, Kurt?" she squeezed his arms and then pushed her long brown hair over he shoulder. _

"_I like it when they wear blue," said the excited six year old._

"_I like blue, too."_

_Mrs Hummel wasn't a glamourous or stick thin woman like the girls parading down the catwalk before them. She hardly ever wore make up unless it was a special occasion and would mostly be seen in a big jumper and jeans if she wasn't at work. Yet, Kurt would happily put his mother up there with the beauties of the world. He viewed her as nothing less than an angel who looked after him well. _

"_Mom, can we go?" Kurt gripped onto her knee and smiled brightly, sporting a gap in the line of his front teeth._

_She nodded warmly and wrapped her arms around him, "One day, when you're a bit older, if you still find the patterns and colours beautiful and want to go, I'll take you, and we'll even make your Daddy go," _

_The child giggled as if she'd just said something really scandalous and covered up his mouth with his tiny fingers. _

"_I promise, okay? Or if you find a love in Baseball like Dad then we'll go to all the games. Whatever you like when you're older and we'll do it. Because I want to make sure you be whoever you want to be," kissing his cheek, she sighed at the fact she already knew in her heart that her boy wouldn't grow up to play sport or be obsessed with getting a girlfriend. He had a spark in him which she just knew would come to his advantage when he would take on the cruel world when he got older. _

"_Mummy?"_

"_Yes, sweetheart?" _

_Kurt took a deep breath, filling his tiny lungs, "Can I please have tap shoes?"_

* * *

"Wake up, Mr Sunshine, you have a phone to man,"

Lifting his head up from the desk, Kurt nodded towards Claire and set the phone back in it's proper place.

It was 9:32pm. New York was aglow in the dazzle of artificial light and every inch of the city was just waking up. Central park had circular orbs of light dotted down the path way in between worn down benches. The glow from the street lamps formed fell onto the ground where couples and singles strolled through. Trees' limbs were arching over the pathway in seemingly choreographed formations, just showing the skyscrapers through the gaps in the leafless branches. In the distance you could see a single walker and their lazy dog, taking their time down the dimly lit but beautiful scenery around them. Kurt walked alone. He held his arms around himself as his eye line remained focussed on the ground before him. His sidekicks had taken time out to be with their respective families to celebrate their first big event whilst employed at Vogue. Burt couldn't make it in time because of congress commitments, he was expected to fly over in time for Valentine's day. It wasn't a lie what he had told Dusty, he couldn't bring himself to lie to the people closest to him. Now his mind was on her, he pulled a face of tiredness as it was yet another problem to deal with. Sooner or later they would have to sit down and she would have to understand that whatever was going on in her mind needed to change. It still baffled him that she could eve start to consider Kurt in more than a friendly way. He didn't want to believe it at first but as soon as he started looking out for the signs, there was no doubt at all: she kept bringing him coffee; offering to buy him a drink that night; fixing his hair and even stealing a peck to the lips every now and again. There must have been a route reason to why she finds impossible suitors attractive. Just as his mind began to wander to those reasons, he was disrupted.

"Can you spare a dollar?"

"Sorry, I don't have anything on me," he grinned politely to the scruffy looking man holding out his hand to him, then proceeded to carry on walking. The last thing he needed was to give away his subway money.

"Please, I'm homeless, let a guy have dinner," the man was persistent, starting to follow Kurt in tired, heavy steps. To be honest, Kurt didn't exactly look like he was broke, dressed head to toe in plush fashion with designer labels dripping from him.

"No, I really don't have anything, I'm sorry," keeping his head low and trying not to look at him, Kurt prayed that he would just stop.

"Please."

Then his hand was on him, pulling at Kurt's Marc Jacobs blazer coat with determination. It had suddenly turned into the most terrifying experience of his life.

"No, get off me please," he was panicking like mad, trying to pull himself away from the bum who had turned aggressive in a flash.

"Hey!" a voice from behind him boomed with the authority of a policeman, surely. The man pushed the bum away with force, "Now you leave this man alone before I have to call the police," he instructed.

Oh god. It only took another three words and Kurt knew exactly who his saviour was. As the scruffy man slumped away, his rescuer turned around with that stupid smug smile.

"No need to thank me," Blaine smiled brightly, straightening Kurt's coat.

Kurt's eyes were wide and searching every inch of the smaller man's face with confusion and curiosity, "Thank you. Happy?" turning swiftly, he was quite ready to make his way home and away from him.

The dark haired knight walked alongside him with hands in his silken pockets, "You don't seem to grateful, considering I just saved you from a certain mugging. I should think a 'Oh you're my knight in shining armour' is in order here?"

"Are you following me, or something? How come you're here just as I happen to be walking home?" Kurt came to a halt and glared at Blaine.

"I'm sorry I didn't realise Central Park was your domain. Actually I live down this way," the pair started to walk again, one strolling with a care free bounce and other stomping on the concrete. From the corner of his eye, the taller boy took a quick glance at what Blaine had dressed himself in. It seemed like Blaine had made quite an effort for the fashion show earlier, seeing as he was dressed head to toe in the darkest black. A few studs sat on his tie but apart from that it was pretty simple.

"You played it safe, then. Going to a fashion show so you wear black from your collar to your brogues," Kurt muttered under his breath, not even looking at him.

Blaine scoffed at the statement, rubbing his nose a little as his cocky smile spread across his lips, "Says you. Every time I see you you're wearing something blue,"

"I like blue," Kurt snapped back, without a gap in between sentences.

"Yeah well so do I but there are other colours, Kurt,"

Inhaling deeply through his nose, Kurt had to use every part of him not to cry at the pathetic reason. He continued to walk at a fast pace with Blaine keeping up with him. He was pretty sure that if he started jogging then his little disciple would grab his running shoes and grin while doing it.

"Look I appreciate what you did for me just then but I don't need you to walk me home, I'm a big boy," he folded his arms and shifted his weight onto his right leg, waiting for Blaine to submit and leave him alone.

Mr Anderson just took a step closer to him and shrugged, "Who said I was walking you home? God, Kurt you can be awfully self obsessed,"

A jaw drop from Kurt and Blaine was walking away. The roles reversed and Kurt began running after him with a point to prove.

"Hey! Mister." he snapped out, "I am not the self obsessed one here. If you could see just how you walk around the office with your stupid little smug grin and the way you wink at every single guy and woman for that matter just to make them swoon at the click of your fingers,"

"Awh Kurt, I didn't think you cared,"

"Don't interrupt me! You couldn't care less that three people lost the opportunity of a life time just so you could wine and dine with Donna Tella Versace..." Kurt's list of flaws was interrupted by a finger put to his lips.

"And I gel my hair more than Ross in the early seasons of friends,"

Throwing Blaine's hand away from him, Kurt groaned in frustration and left with a pace too quick to suggest anything other than he wanted to be left alone. There was anger darting through every vein in his body like every time he said more than three words to that viper. It was like his sole purpose in life was to search him out and pick out a thing that makes him tick, then do said thing to an exaggerated level to the point where he wants to kill him. Blaine stood still and watched Kurt walk away from him. He bit the inside of his lip hard and cursed himself for turning on that stupid personality he had developed.

* * *

February 8th.

"Stop! Stop I'm gonna cry!"

The sounds of screams and roars of laughter flooded the building that morning. Every face of the three was scrunched up into wide smiles, wrinkles forming everywhere from the extreme giggling that was going on. Kurt was nearly on the floor with how much he was bending over, clutching his stomach like the contents were about to fall out. Dusty kept spitting out her drink from sipping when she thought it was safe moment, then Travis would do another one of his impressions and send her spewing like a dirty fountain.

"I'm Mrs Doubtfire and I can hip-hop, be-bop, dance til' ya drop and yo yo, make a wicked cup of cocoa," Travis said with a delicate scottish accent, spot on to the original. Kurt was in stitches at it, gripping onto the end of his desk as the giggles had taken him over so it would only take a tiny thing to send him into hysterics.

"Stop! I really need to get this email sent or I'll be put to death," Kurt wiped the corners of his eyes and shook his head, hoping to shake the infectious laughter from him, "Oh I love you guys," he chuckled as he began to type.

Dusty hit the desk with both hands and pushed herself to her feet, tottering in six inch heels to compensate for the fact she stood normally at five foot two, "Yeah, I probably have something I need to be getting on with, bye Kurt," she blew him a kiss and then made her way to her own little microcosm of work.

"Bye, girl," Kurt laughed.

Travis took the opportunity to pull up a chair and sit next to Kurt.

"Oh, is this serious? You've actually decided to sit on a chair and not plant your butt cheeks on my beautiful wooden desk," as he tapped away, Kurt blinked at the brightness of the screen.

"I just want to know about where you went last night," brushing hair away from the rim of his glasses, the man spun from side to side in his office chair.

Clearing his throat, Kurt straightened out his collection of post-its naturally and sighed, "Well, actually, I ran into-,"

The squeak of brand new dress shoes against marble flooring reeked of Blaine Anderson. He basically knee slid into the office that morning with the air of an old hollywood crooner about him. Every other sucker fell for that act, they couldn't see through his charm or notice anything other than his perfectly straight, white teeth. They just wanted to fall at his feet and wait on him hand and foot. Kurt saw past that smile. He didn't feel the uncontrollable urge to throw himself at him like he might have done had he never opened his mouth to him.

"Look who it is," Travis brought a hand to his chin, watching and analysing his every move of Blaine's like a dangerous animal in the wild who wasn't to be trusted. His blue eyes observed as he danced over to Isabelle's office and began sorting out some files for her.

Meanwhile the disenchanted brunette was scribbling with a pen to test it's effectiveness, "Actually I'd rather not look if it's alright with you, there's more to do here than to gawp at Blaine Anderson," his head was down, his eyes were on the paper and he began to write down a rough draft of Isabelle's appointments for after Fashion week. Travis had brought his knees up to his chin and linked his hands around them as he still continued to watch the new guy. Through the glass he was like Kurt, keeping his eyes down as if he wasn't interested in the slightest. Looking from one boy to the other, they both seemed as if they were completely avoiding communication of any kind, like they were trying too hard to make each other not known to them.

"Well, I'm gonna go get some coffee, want some?" Kurt shook his head and let his friend leave him to work in peace.

He shifted to the computer after hardly any time at all, clicking onto his Emails with the intentions of finding some distractions.

**I'm hurt and betrayed that you didn't even think to look at me when I walked in.**

**Dashing knight.**

Kurt's neck darted out from behind his screen to where Blaine was sat, eyes narrowed as he saw him tapping away at Isabelle's computer with a smirk. Less than amused, he angrily tapped a reply.

**I'm insulted and irritated that you even thought to email me after you are aware that I can't stand you.**

**Pissed off victim.**

_How dare he just email me? On a work computer? He is either trying to get as close to me as possible to he can hurt me in the worst possible way or boredom has taken over him dramatically and I'm his first port of call._ Kurt's mind raced with vicious, slanderous thoughts towards the snake behind the screen.

**That's a bit harsh now, isn't it? I don't think you've really gotten a chance to get to know me properly. How about we get a drink tonight? After the show I have to go to. I'll buy and you get to have a night out with me. What do you have to loose?**

**Hopeful suitor.**

His fingers clenched as he read the text formed by pixels on the screen lighting up his eyes. If any other man had given him this same offer with half the looks that Blaine possessed he might have considered it. However, this time he would have to take a rain check. With one more quick look to where Blaine was sitting, he replied:

**Sorry. I'm washing my hair.**

**Watch me leave.**

And with that, he shut down the machine and stood to his feet, strutting off towards the door with a smug look towards Blaine who was definitely looking his way now. It felt nice to have Blaine under his thumb for a change. Not that he would ever submit to being controlled by him, but now he could have that tiny little bit of satisfaction that no doubt Blaine got every time he got the shocked look from Kurt's face. He could never understand why Blaine acted the way he did but this little burst of energy gave him a little bit of an idea. Leaving the office to head towards Starbucks for his lunch break, he patted his quiff as well as his back for a job well done.

* * *

11:43pm that night. A green door sat in between two blue ones and inside there was a one bedroom apartment. There were posters strewn over every wall, checked patterns on the surfaces and tattered furniture. Everything came across as very bohemian, one wall was pure brick with excerpts from old magazines pinned up against it. The couch had torn cushions over it and a long, green rug over the back of it. Candles were lit around the place and spotlights hung in the darker spaces of the apartment. The floor was panelled with dark, wooden floorboards- a danger hazard for anyone walking around barefoot. A large portrait of Marilyn Monroe was the centrepiece of the living room, hanging over the TV. She was smiling bright as she always used to do, looking over one shoulder to the camera with that famous smoulder in her eyes. Just beside the Norma Jean Baker picture, there was a large lava lamp glowing brightly. The inhabitant of the apartment? Dusty Knight. She had been home for at least four hours, scrolling through Facebook on her Mac and occasionally popping on to Kurt's profile just to make sure it was still there. It was no where near like a stalker, she just had those new crush feelings where all you want to do is talk to them so you wait for them to appear online. Unfortunately, he never did. So, in the end she had to lie back and start to think. This was dangerous as she always ended up reminding herself of the fact that the boy she had fallen in love with would never look at her as more than a friend or someone to have an opinion on the clothes he wears. It wasn't her fault. She never fell for the right guys. Her longest relationship couldn't have been any longer than three months, they always seemed to end with either a coming out or a nasty argument. Kurt was different, though, She couldn't see him throwing a plate at her or just shouting to her 'I'm gay you slut!' and then leaving her alone in outside Rockefeller Center like her previous crush Kyle. No, Kurt Hummel had a grace about him, he would never hurt a fly. She remembered when she first started to think about him as more than just her fashionable friend. It was about a month ago, when she was devastate over her parents divorce and Kurt was the first person to call to make sure she was okay. He turned up uninvited to her house with a tub of Ben and Jerry's and a bunch of blankets. They made a tent in the front room and spent the rest of the night singing along to Kurt's iPod which they put in a jug to amplify the sound. No one had ever shown that much compassion to her and it touched her so much that it was almost inevitable that she would start to feel a connection towards him. That one night was one of the most comfortable experiences of her life, it was just so right. conversation was flowing and laughter was abundant. Any hopes of achieving what she desperately wanted was hopeless, Dusty was aware of this. But you couldn't blame a girl for trying.

* * *

February 9th

It had been a long day for poor Kurt. The work commenced at 8:30 and it was now just getting dark outside in the New York streets. Blaine had spent the day at a Zac Posen show, and was now on his way back to the Vogue building to pick up Isabelle's diary.

"See you, Claire, say hi to the twins for me sweetie," he waved tiredly to his colleague as she left, leaving him alone on the floor. Everything suddenly came a lot quieter, the only sounds were the occasional sniff from Kurt or the shutting of a draw as he started to put his things together. The quiet thud of his shoes bounced off the walls whilst he made his way around the large space. It was dark, only a few dim lights illuminating the Vogue covers on the walls and the expensive equipment sat on various desks. All he wanted was to go home, curl up with a pot noodle and his TV remote and forget all about work and all about Blaine Anderson. He started to hum to himself a little to fill the unbearable silence. He'd never liked silence.

"Come fly with me,"

Kurt squealed and held his heart, his eyes darting to where the voice came from. Of course, who else would it be? Blaine stood there with his side against the door frame and his arms folded around his stomach. He was dressed in dark red skinny trousers, a navy blue long coat buttoned to the top and a scarf covering his neck which he almost seductively slipped off as he stared at Kurt.

"I love that song," he winked and walked through towards the taller boy, tossing his removed scarf over the top of Kurt's bag.

"You scared the crap out of me. What are you even doing here anyway? You're meant to be at the Posen show," angrily, he snatched the scarf from his bag, threw it violently at his enemy and then began packing his satchel with countless piece of paper and folders.

Coughing, the suave gentlemen kicked one leg behind other and just watched him: amused, "It ended. Why are you here so late my darling?

Kurt was trying hard to avoid eye contact, only occasionally would his pools of blue dart towards Blaine's hazelnut wonders that sat underneath his dark, bushy brows, "I'm not your darling and if you must know, I had a report that was long overdue and I took the opportunity to actually complete it. Now I'm going home,"

"So soon? I thought we might discuss our drinking plans a little bit further since you so rudely dismissed my proposal through that harsh email," Blaine began walking up and down the proximity of Kurt's work space, hands behind his back as he shot him the occasional dashing closed mouth smile. His pursuit just kept himself busy with clearing up his desk which had only got increasingly messy throughout the long working day.

"My hair needs maintenance," he snapped.

The smaller man stopped in front of him and stood with a firm stance, demanding control of the room with no effort whatsoever. Kurt eventually found less things to do to avoid just looking at Blaine so he gave in and made eye contact.

"I can't help but think we got off on the wrong foot,"

Kurt scoffed, "You're so observant. Did you put that on your resume? Like, the one you used to steal my dreams?" his question was delivered with biting sarcasm and a smile that could pierce a soul.

"I can't believe you're still hung up on that. Let it go, the right man won," Blaine shrugged with the arrogant confidence that made Kurt twitch.

"How dare you," he moved from behind the desk and stood right in front of Blaine, "What makes you think that you had any more reason to be attending fashion week than me? What gives you the right to waltz into my place of work, treat me like shit and then assume I don't deserve what you so easily got. I've worked so hard to be here...,"

"How old are you, 18? And I heard that you just walked in and Isabelle basically threw an internship at you like she was giving them away,"

Kurt's eyes blew open wide, "Who said that? And I'm nineteen actually, I'll be twenty in two weeks," he began to laugh with complete disbelief that someone could be this rude and obnoxious and not seem to care at all about the repercussions, "Oh my God I can't believe you, you did it again! You just assume that no one is as good as you, or no one can ever compare to you because you're just like an angel aren't you? You need a reality check. You need someone to just sit you down and help you realise that the whole world does not revolve around you and guess what? The fashion world doesn't revolve around you. This office world does not revolve around you and no, Mr Blaine Anderson, my world does not revolve around you,"

Even Blaine's cool tone raised at this point, his fists tightening ever so slightly as he responded with: "You can't just make all these assumptions about me, you don't even know me,"

"Yes, I do," he nodded, "I know you very well, because you have no depth. You have one layer and its just a load of arrogant and obnoxious crap!"

"Really? Really. Well maybe that says more about you that you can't even see past the first layer of a person to get to their real personality, maybe you're just judgemental. Or maybe you're as bad as me," Blaine was laughing by now, his perfect teeth shining through as he spoke.

"I'm nothing like you, you are obnoxious, rude, you make personal remarks and I hate you!"

Before either could stop what was happening, their lips were crashing together. Blaine initiated it, tugging Kurt towards him by his shirt but the taller boy certainly didn't resist. His hands flew to Blaine's cheeks, eyes shut tightly as their lips moved against each others. Blaine started to tangle his fingers in Kurt's smooth, light brown hair. Suddenly the only sounds in the office were the claps of lips smacking together and ruffles of shirts as they couldn't keep off each other. Blaine even pushed Kurt towards the desk, pressing him against it with no signals that he was going to stop. Just as he reached for Kurt's tie he was being pushed away by a very flustered Kurt with bruised lips and ruffled hair.

"I...I, Blaine, no. What the hell," he didn't know whether to feel angry, upset or excited. Pretty much the best way to describe his emotions was a mixture of all three.

The darkened red of Blaine's lips curved up into his signature smirk, "Better than expected,"

Quickly, Kurt untangled himself from Blaine's arms and wiped his lips, reaching for his coat and bag. He was completely shocked and stunned with himself more than anything, he felt a little bit faint, even, "I have to go. Goodbye, Blaine."

"Come on, tell me you didn't feel something then," his stance was now a lot more calm, a little breathless but still the more relaxed of the two.

His statement stopped Kurt in his tracks, but only long enough for him to take a deep breath and whisper, "I felt nothing," then leave swiftly as if it never happened.

* * *

_Next time: Blaine pursues Kurt even further, but his ego could stand in the way between any chances they have. Dusty's crush develops and throws Kurt into a corner of pressure. _


	3. Dancing Queen

**Dancing Queen**

Kurt couldn't have ran down the marble stairs faster. His heart was pounding rapidly in his chest, so much so he wondered how it hadn't burst through his ribs and ripped open his skin. The cold night air hit him like a knife as soon as he left the building. Everything was literally spinning around him, his thoughts torturing him like a frantic mosh pit going crazy in his skull. As he got his bearings and took a moment to breathe, the brunette finally realised what he'd just let himself do. That was certainly going to open a huge can of ugly worms. Now that he'd shared a lip lock with Blaine, he'd opened up so many doors to complications he really didn't need. The sight of a cab with it's lights on drew Kurt's attention as he hailed it and gave his address to the man inside- he'd rather pay a couple extra dollars than face the Subway when he could barely even walk properly. His head banged against the seat rest, eyes closed with frustration at himself. Half of the reason he hated his actions was because of what it implied to the cocky man, but also because Blaine was right- he did feel something. As soon as Kurt realised what he was thinking, he pinched his fist and tried desperately to think of something else. His eyes, bleak and empty, stared straight ahead of him as he angrily wiped his lips with the end of his sleeve in the hope that he could wipe himself of the deed completely.

"Down here?" the cabbie asked as he pointed down a small street.

"Yeah, thanks," throwing some money at him, he raced out of the car and up to his apartment where he literally fell onto the couch and didn't move until the morning.

* * *

February 10th

"Happy birthday!"

"Happy Birthday gorgeous!"

"Here's your present, it's only a small thing but I know you wanted it," Travis added to the cacophony of birthday wishes as he handed Dusty a small box with a baby blue dolphin necklace inside of it. A single diamond studded the tail of the animal and it suited Dusty's fashion sense perfectly. She accepted the gift with a bright smile and threw her arms around the much taller gent, having to stand on the very tips of her toes to do so.

"I love it, thank you," her eyes twinkled as she put the chain around her neck and suitably showed it around to the rest of her friends who had been crowding her all day. Dusty's desk was covered fully in bowed boxes and gift bags with ribbons hanging from the handles, cards stacked high beside them. From the door on the opposite side of the room, a tired and half dead creature of 5'11 slumped in and headed straight for his chair. Having not slept a wink the night before he looked positively ghastly by Kurt's usual standards. Sure his hair was in the usual quiff and his clothes were still clean cut and crisp but the bags under his eyes told a different story. Before he even had chance to get his papers together, he had at least four people walking over to him lead by the red haired bombshell with a huge 'Happy Birthday' badge over her white blouse.

"Oh my God," Kurt's hands went to his mouth, eyes wide as he remembered and groaned loudly, "Oh, God. Dusty I completely forgot your birthday was today... I've been so busy,"

Dusty watched Kurt's revelation and let her smile drop into a sad and disappointed frown. Soon after, she forced a fake smile and shrugged, "Hey...I don't mind, I know everyone's really busy at the minute, I totally get it," the hurt tone of her voice completely broke Kurt's heart, it was lie she was trying so hard to sound positive but the fact Kurt forgot had crushed her.

The brunette rose to his feet and sighed, "No, I'm really sorry, I should have got you something,"

"Kurt, it's fine, don't worry about it," although Dusty was making the effort to at least put on a brave face, the three colleagues behind her didn't look at all impressed.

Kurt took a deep breath and ran his hands down his face, "Happy birthday," he said.

Dusty nodded and did a little wave, then left a guilty worker to carry on with whatever work he had to do. He slumped down in his chair for the second time I'm the space of three minutes and cleared his throat from the lump that had been building up- he had luckily managed to avoid breaking into tears, though. It had just slipped his mind, what with the stress of fashion week and the whole situation with Blaine, he hadn't even thought to go out and buy her a birthday present. Kurt knew he had to come up with something twice as marvellous in order to win back her respect and trust, so he turned to the internet and looked for the most awesome present imaginable. Somewhere along the road he had made a detour onto the vogue website, just to check on what delights everyone else in the fashion world was experiencing while he had to sit behind a desk and feel sorry for himself. As expected, there were many pictures from the week so far: designers, models, reporters all dressed to the nines with their smiles bright for the cameras. With a hand on his cheek, pushing his skin up so his face was tired and distorted, Kurt continued to scroll through and mope. His eyes widened as soon as they fell upon a picture of 'Isabelle Wright and her stylish new right hand man'. There was no escaping the viper. Kurt couldn't even appreciate his first love without Blaine pooping up and ruining it for him. It got too much, he couldn't take it anymore and he found himself groaning loudly and letting his head fall into his hands like a man who had lost all hope. He couldn't even stop butterflies forming when he saw just a picture of the boy, but he didn't want this. Blaine was a spiteful man who had somehow tricked him into that kiss and now he found himself fawning over him like every other sucker that saw him. Maybe it was the arrogance that attracted him, perhaps he had a feeling he could change him. Or maybe it was simply a psychical attraction, that could be forgiven, surely. Either way these feelings were not welcome at all. Tired and barely working, his eyes peeked through the gaps in is fingers and fell on a picture of his mother he always kept on his desk.

"_Mom, um... today at school, a boy was laughing at me," the seven year old boy rubbed some sleep from his eyes and then looked up at his mother for the wisdom she always imparted to him._

_She frowned and pushed her dark hair behind her ears, "He was? Why? Did you do one of your impressions again?"_

_Shaking his head, the little boy climbed up and sat next to her on their old, battered couch, "No, it wasn't the kind of laugh that makes you happy, he was laughing because of my picture," he reached down into his pocket with his small hands and pulled out a crumpled piece of pink paper._

_Mrs Hummel smiled a little and took the picture from him. Upon opening it up, it was revealed that Kurt had drawn a picture of a boy in the most flamboyant of outfits. He had on a sparkly pink kilt, complete with a glitter pen it seemed, and a tight black button up vest. It was quite the piece of art for a boy of Kurt's age._

"_It was Ben, the big mean one. He said that boy's shouldn't dress like that and he would beat up anyone who did," a small tear ran down his left cheek as his fingers traced the rough part of the kilt where the glitter lay. _

_His mother wrapped a loving arm around him and kissed his head, "And what makes you think this boy knows anything about how a boy should or shouldn't dress...mm?" her son remained unresponsive as he kept his eyes fixed on the bright colours he had added to his design earlier on in class._

"_Kurt, listen to me," putting her hands under his armpits, she gently pulled him up to sit on her lap, one hand on his knee and the other wrapped around him as she kissed his cheek, "Ben is not the king of the world, he can't make decisions and tell you what's right or wrong. The only person who can make those kinds of decisions about who you are is you and you alone,"_

_Kurt looked a little confused but carried on listening to her anyway as her soft, calming voice told him words he would never forget, "If you want to wear a kilt with glitter on it or a football jersey and a helmet, it doesn't matter. Because being yourself is the most exciting thing ever, and I bet Ben is just a little weird about it because he hasn't met anyone quite as special as you, yet," kissing his cheek one last time, she waited for a reply from her precious little prince. The seven year old just smiled happily with a sense of pride that she was his mother. So they left it at that and continued to watch the cartoon they were occupied with before. _

Kurt laughed at the memory, the sound muffled by the fact his hands were clenched up in fists and covering his mouth. He'd often get little flashbacks, they always appeared black and white in his mind as it added a little Judy Garland theme to them. Reaching his hand out, he traced his fingers over the picture, biting his lip to stop tears. He tried to imagine what she would tell him in this situation, she'd know what to do. Right now he needed her for grown up problems. He needed to be helped like the small little boy he used to be. Somewhere inside him that little naive boy was still there and begging for his mother.

* * *

That night was Dusty's birthday bash. Well, strictly speaking it was a group of friends meeting up in a club with balloons and badges. Kurt, for obvious reasons, was hesitant at first but after a lot of persuasion, he agreed to go.

"Hey! Kurt!" an already drunk Travis draped his six foot frame over the dapperly dressed brunette as soon as he came into view from the large dancing crowd. The stench of alcohol on his breath drew an amused laugh from Kurt who was dressed head to toe in designer labels as usual. He could barely make out the faces on his friends as the room was so dark, only lit by the occasional swoop of a disco ball shining some light onto the group.

"Woah, you're already drunk? Lightweight," pushing Travis off him, he slowly made his way over to his much smaller female friend. She looked, by all accounts: beautiful. Her dress was a pale, almost nude tone of pink and flowed down to the middle of her thighs, the top of it tight but not too revealing. She'd decided to put her hair up in a mess of perfectly done curls, and had replaced her glasses for contacts, "Wow... Dust, you look incredible," he smiled apologetically as the events of the day were still playing on his mind.

"Thanks," she grinned and nodded towards him. They both shared an agreeing look and Kurt raced towards her to wrap her up in a big hug, "I'm really sorry," he muttered for the 500th time that day, she just responded with another 'Don't worry' and they were fine once again.

"Now let's actually have some fun, I'm 22 Goddamit, I'll be dead tomorrow," a resounding cheer and then they were all on the dance floor, splitting up into different groups with squeals delight.

Within the space of an hour, not a sober person remained. Travis' jacket had somehow removed itself and now lay on the shoulders of one of their other colleagues who was currently sat on the edge of the curb puking her guts out. This was the best representation for the evening: sloppy, messy and regrettable the next morning. Dusty's previous perfect girl image had dissolved into Lindsay Lohan with better dress sense. The music pumped loudly through the ears of drunken twenty something's, the room was sweaty and cramped but not a soul took notice as they were far too concerned about staying on their feet. Lights illuminated the smudged mascara and flattened hair-dos: previous beauty now broken. As for Kurt, he had taken up the prestigious position of one of the dance podiums and took pride in his slut drops and the occasional high kick- he'd almost taken out the taller passers-by at least twice. His eyebrows were furrowed in pure concentration as he claimed the whole podium to himself. At first, he had demanded everyone's attention but after about ten minutes he went unrecognised to the club goers.

"Kurt! Get down!" a giggling Dusty gripped at his shoe in an attempt to limit the humiliation for her friend to as little as possible. Kurt only shook his head in response as he danced with arms waving carelessly above his spinning head. He could only process the music piercing his ears and nothing else, the pounding of the bass driving him into a complete trance. "Get down!" she persisted, still through high pitched giggles as she couldn't bring herself to be serious.

"Never! I...I am the best dancer," he muttered through alcohol tinged lips, disco light turning his face a shade of pink, then green, then blue.

Dusty admitted defeat. She shrugged and bounced onto another girl's back.

In Kurt's mind, he was on a stage somewhere, with a full dance troop behind him and a roaring crowd cheering him on. There was music, lights, cameras and it was all for him. He shuffled from side to side while clicking his fingers in the air, a drunken move he had mastered back when he was sixteen. At some point during the night he had acquired someone else's tie and it was tied in a sturdy knot around his forehead, giving him the look of a prepubescent rebellious school boy. His shirt had become untucked and he now looked like the last person on the floor at a wedding. This intoxicated bliss stayed for a while until he lost his footing and fell against the metal railings. Hitting his side like an extremely cold fist, this knocked enough sense into him to call it quits on the podium.

"You okay?" the lone sober member of the pack, Christie, took hold of the staggering drunkard and held him up,"Kurt you need to go home,"

"Yes...home...home time," his nods were over-exaggerated and lazy, eyes drooping almost to the point of lids being shut fully.

"Home...time to go home..."

* * *

February 11th

His head was heavy, eyes drooping and he couldn't stay fully focussed on a subject for longer than five seconds. Yes, it was one of the more dramatic hangovers of Kurt's life but he did bring it on himself. Phrases like 'More shots!' echoing in his head suggested that had contributed to his headache more than anything. With absolutely no energy to actually get to some serious work, Kurt had resorted to scrolling through his Facebook so that only his finger needed to move. Occasionally one of the other drinkers from last night would walk past, they would exchange a grunt and not even look at each other. The hole atmosphere of that section of the building was low and almost dead. Kurt had almost fallen asleep until an annoying jingle told him he had an Email. Opening it casually, he closed his eyes in frustration. The sender was Blaine. He seriously considered deleting it without even finding out what it contained; it'd only be a long, arrogant message about how Kurt couldn't keep his hands off him the other night but he 'totally understood'. Kurt just scoffed to himself, he had Blaine's personality nailed. On the other hand, there was that horrible possibility that it was a request to take things further. Maybe Blaine went about showing someone his feelings in a really weird way. Kurt dismissed this idea just as quickly as it came into his head. In the end, there was only one way to find out what angle Blaine was playing- so he opened it.

**Hey dancing queen. How's your head?**

At first, Kurt was just confused. That was, until he opened the attachment. There, through grainy cell phone footage, was a dark figure dancing on a podium. Yes, the footage was dim, but the wannabe superstar throwing shapes was definitely recognisable as Kurt. He was mortified to say the least. With wide eyes and the grip on his mouse tightening, he quickly darted his head above the screen to inspect Isabelle's office. The computer was unoccupied. Blaine must have sent it before Kurt even showed up for work that day. Suddenly, thoughts of paranoia began to torture him- Who else had he told? HAd the whole office seen it but they were just being nice to his droopy, hungover face? No, surely Blaine couldn't... however, it was Blaine at the end of the day. Perhaps he would use it as blackmail to get the brunette into his bed with no doubt crinkled sheets from all the men he'd used his wiles on. Or he would post it to YouTube to publicly shame him because Blaine had no heart underneath those designer suits.

**You were there? I'm surprised you weren't sliding around on the floor with your tongue slipping out.**

**Delete that video.**

Without hesitation, Kurt's angry reply was sent. He huffed and rubbed his aching eyes that had only grown more tired from the brightness of his computer screen.

"Oh...harsh," Blaine quipped from behind the boy, his eyes fixed to his phone as he leaned back a little with laughter. Kurt ignored the way his brain was pounding against his head and spun around in his office chair to eye up the gentlemen.

"Listen, Kurt, if you want my tongue again, you just have to ask," Blaine had smoothly moved into a position of kneeling in front of Kurt, so to be at his level of sitting down. His face was unforgiving and his eyebrows were pointed upwards. Kurt responded to this by scooting backwards on the wheels and keeping his distance from the boy.

"I'd rather sit on a cactus," he snapped coldly.

"Well, if you're into that kinda thing, it could be arranged," straightening himself up so his posture returned to tall and confident, Blaine shoved his hands into his pockets and began tot take a few casual steps towards his prey. Kurt scooted even further back, to the point where they were doing circles around his desk in a peculiar race.

"Leave me alone! You had no right to film me and then send it to me as if it were some kind of sick black mail," Kurt let his feet guide him backwards while his eyes remained fixed on the man standing above him. He reached a corner on the desk and used it to propel him even further away from the man pursuing him. Blaine was making his way along the wooden desk, placing his hands on it as if to keep him steady. It was strangely flirty, even if only one party wanted it to be.

Blaine's smirk never failed to become apparent when they shared a dispute like this, "I think you're being too hard on yourself...you're quite a good mover," with the comment, Blaine closed in on Kurt and set his hands on the arm rests of the chairs, bringing Kurt to a halt and trapping him in close contact, "Now how about a drink? At someplace nice? I'll even let you dance on the table since you enjoy that type of thing,"

For a moment Kurt was considering the offer, their faces were inches apart- the sight must have looked extremely creepy to the rest of the office but no one seemed to be even paying attention. The moment quickly passed and Kurt's expression flipped in an instant, he was glaring with venom and harshly snapped out, "In your dreams pal," then teasingly prised the man's fingers from the arm rests and pushed him off in a blasé manner. Returning to work as if nothing had happened, Kurt didn't look again to the direction in which Blaine was standing until he was sure he had sauntered off. These little head to head battles were becoming far too familiar for Kurt's liking- this was the third time he'd had to shake the man off and it was becoming tedious. But the damn boy wouldn't quit.

* * *

"Woah! Why? Why? Why would someone make this film?! What sick and twisted man has made this? Oh my God! Turn it off! No! Don't turn it off, I think that girl is gonna have a baby...Oh my God is that thing hanging out of her vajay?!" Kurt was literally screaming in horror at the television screen, Dusty wasn't doing too good either. She had resorted to hiding her head in the empty popcorn bowl and singing to herself so she didn't have to hear any of it.

"Dust, Dust look! Look! She's getting away! And she has a baby...oh my-," a large gag erupted from the boy as he hid his face for the first time and turned away, his whole body squirming as the images stayed put in his mind.

"Kurt make it stop!" she squealed from behind the plastic.

"I can't find the remote?" reaching around the bed with his face turning the other way wasn't the ideal way to locate a remote in a hurry, but eventually he managed to find it and turn off the disturbing film. Slowly, a scared face emerged from the bowl and gazed up at her friend as if to say, 'Why the hell did we put ourselves through that?'. The two of them were sat on Kurt's bed in their pyjamas, utterly horrified and wanting nothing more than to erase the last hour from their minds.

"I can genuinely feel a little bit of puke right here in my throat," Kurt held his hand to the base of his throat and opened his mouth a little.

Dusty threw the bowl to the side and held her knees, "I thought the first one was bad...Jesus Christ I keep thinking about the Diarrhoea scene,"

"Don't!" he barged in, throwing his arm to her stomach to stop her, "I will literally throw up all over this place,"

"I mean you think he'd at least put down a mat or something to save the flooring,"

"He was in a warehouse, Dusty, he had attached a bunch of people together and knocked their teeth out, I don't think his mind was set on maintaining the interior design!"

They sat back and took a moment to recompose themselves. This 'scary slumber party' hadn't gone quite as amazingly as they'd planned. Kurt sat forward a little bit and then turned towards his friend, "Shall we put on Looney Toons to forget what we just saw?" he was replied with an enthusiastic nod and a wide grin, so he flicked on the cartoons and lay back again.

Dusty had calmed down now, and proceeded to subtly snuggle into Kurt's side. Her soft spot for the surprisingly toned individual had not faded by any means, if anything it had grown stronger. The man was wearing a tight black t-shirt and grey sweats, so who could blame a girl for wanting to be as close as possible to him? Kurt had definitely clocked on to the sudden change in proxemics between them, but decided against doing anything about it. As Tweety Pie flew into a tree in front of their eyes, she moved even closer and was now basically resting her head on her shoulder and clinging to his arm. Kurt's mind immediately went to the comments he had received about her possible feelings towards him which he dismissed as ridiculous. Maybe these claims weren't as preposterous as Kurt had once believed. There was only one way to settle his anxious mind, and that was to ask her.

"Uh Dusty?" and then it happened. She took the plunge and trusted her impulses as she reached up ad kissed him square on the lips. Her hands went to the sides of his face. Kurt's eyes flew open and his eyebrows hit the roof, a sound of shock leaving him as he gently pushed her away.

"What the hell are you doing?" he squealed.

She immediately went pale, hands beginning to shake, "Oh...I um...,"

There was a silence filled with confusion and regret as Kurt tried to search her expression and Dusty avoided all eye contact in favour of playing with her bracelets. Nothing was being said so Kurt knew he had to take the first step in recovering whatever friendship they had left.

"Sweetie," his tone was soft and forgiving, after all, the girl hadn't done anything hurtful towards him- she was just confused, "Whatever it is you're feeling for me, honey it's gotta stop. I'm gay,"

Dusty tensed at the to words she'd heard before, still not looking at him.

"I know it's harder than just forgetting, but you must have known that I wasn't an eligible bachelor for you, right?" taking her hands in his, he continued, "I mean, I'm not exactly a burley gentlemen who watches Gossip Girl just for the boobs...I watch it for the fabulous scandals and the costume designs,"

"Don't...I get it, you don't have to explain all this to me," she dismissed his attempts at making her feel better with a wave of her hand, then wiped her eyes of the tears that were spilling over, "I'm sorry..., if it's okay I think I want to go home now,"

At this moment, whatever Dusty wanted, Kurt was willing to let her have- the girl was sad enough, "Sure...sure sweetie, do you want me to drive you?"

She just nodded and they both understood.


	4. Cavalli

**Cavalli**

February 14th- The last day of New York Fashion week.

Kurt hadn't seen Blaine in three days. They just seemed to keep missing each other; Kurt would arrive at work at a certain time, only to find that Blaine had just left and vice versa. But by no means had he forgotten about the dapper young gentleman who had slid into his life only a week ago. Every now and again he would find himself picturing the man in perfect detail, then the imaginary Blaine would start talking and Kurt would be reminded of the reason why he despised him. No E-Mails had been received, no videos of Kurt in a drunken state sent to the man himself- it was as if Blaine had gotten bored and moved onto another unsuspecting victim. Of course, if this was the case, Kurt would be thrilled, right? However, there was a sense of peculiar jealousy that had loomed over him during the past few days. It was odd but the thought of someone else receiving his awful compliments and constant taunts made him a little green eyed. The mixture of emotions he was feeling couldn't have been described to anyone who didn't fully understand the situation. Unless Blaine's charm has been put to you, you can never judge how difficult it is to get him off your mind. As for Dusty, it's fair to say that her and Kurt's relationship wasn't flowing as nicely as it was previously. Kurt had tried to stay positive and talk to her just as much, but she was far too embarrassed and would duck her head whenever he tried to engage in conversation. Kurt had the highest amount of sympathy for her, knowing what it's like to be humiliated in front of the person you like.

The employees that littered the floor of the Vogue office were anxiously awaiting the moment when they could relax and not have to fret over reporting on the latest shows and making sure everything ran as smoothly as possible. For three employees in particular, today was very special as they could attend the eagerly anticipated Cavalli show as promised by Isabelle.

"Excited?"

"Is the Pope catholic?"

"I don't know, is he? Never paid much attention to religion," shrugging, Travis perched on the end of Kurt's desk like he did every morning and brought one knee up to his chin, keeping it in place with both arms. The other gentleman was sat behind his desk with glasses on the end of his nose, typing away.

"There's not much to it, I wouldn't worry," Kurt cleared his throat as Travis gazed off into the distance, as if pondering something.

"So...y'know Jesus,"

"I've heard of him yeah," Kurt muttered, busy with other things.

"Well, do Christian's believe he's gonna come back?" turning to his apparently much wiser colleague, the man stuck his lip out in thought.

"Apparently," Kurt muttered with indiference.

"Hm... I hope I'm not in the bathroom- how embarrassing,"

Kurt snorted in amusement- only Travis could make him chuckle with blissfully peculiar musings about irrelevant topics.

"Let's hope your not bent over a desk having one of your five a day either,"

"Kurt Hummel!" looking utterly shocked and yet flattered by the fact Kurt had envisioned him getting even one a day let alone five. The two boys then separated as Travis made his way over to his own desk to actually get some work done- that man was always missing deadlines and getting it in the ear from Isabelle.

"Chop chop people! We all want to make it to that show but we won't even make it to Times Square if you don't get on those blogs," a panicking Carol stormed through the centre of the desks, clicking her fingers obnoxiously. Honestly the woman was a lovely person, just not when stress took over her- then she became a little witchy.

Kurt took note of this warning and began typing a little quicker than usual. There was no way he was going to miss this show, seeing as Blaine had stolen every other once in a life time experience from him. The more he thought about it, the more that he became irritated. Not just because of the fashion shows Blaine got to see, but because he would be walking home with every single gift bag under his arm- lucky bastard.

* * *

Blaine was looking sharp to say the least. He had ten minutes until he was to be picked up by Isabelle's chauffeur and taken to the Cavalli show. From head to toe, his outfit oozed style and elegance. A black studded bow tie rested on the collar of his deep purple shirt, tucked into his perfectly tailored pants. His hair, channeling the late great Elvis Presley. And his shoes recently polished. While Blaine waited for his lift to pick him up, he strolled around his small, yet elegant apartment and tidied up a little. He'd lived in the same place for a couple of years, it was comfortable so he saw no point in moving. There was just enough space without it being too flashy and expensive to keep. Working at Vogue was Blaine's first big job so he didn't exactly have a lot of cash in the bank, just enough from his parents and the odd job he'd had in the past. To be honest, he had no idea how he managed to land the job at Vogue. He did a fashion degree, but he'd never had any experience assisting a huge name in fashion. Blaine just saw an ad online for an interview, went for it and eventually got it. He'd put it down to being the best out of a bad bunch and a sheer amount of good luck. In the corner of the living room sat at least seven unopened gift bags from the many shows he'd attended that week, unopened as he had other plans for them.

From outside, the sound of a car horn made Blaine stand up quickly and hurriedly shoot for the door, flinging a satchel over his shoulder. Isabelle met him in the back of the car with a kiss to each cheek, "Blaine! So good to see you, you look flawless," she doted on Blaine, so would pay him compliments at any opportunity.

"Well thank you, so do you, I must say," fastening his belt around him, Blaine flashed her a hundred watt smile and crossed one leg over the other.

Isabelle blushed at the compliment and threw her hair over her shoulder, "Oh stop it, you really are a charmer aren't you?" she leaned closer to the new employee.

Blaine just laughed and shrugged, "What can I say? My father always taught me to treat the ladies well...unfortunately for him I treated the men even better," a corny, almost forced laugh left him after his little joke. She laughed in return and swatted his leg.

"And you're funny. You must have a man already,"

"No, try as I might, they're just a little too intimidated by me," he quipped.

She shook her head in disbelief, "Oh I don't buy that, you're a complete catch!" her eyes widened as a bulb lit in her head, "Have you spoken to Travis? He's one of my assistants. He's gay and he's so lovely,"

Blaine shook his head, "I haven't spoken to him... but I always say, if they haven't caught my attention like a bright light in a cave then they're not worth the effort,"

"So...there's been no bright lights in the cave at work at all?" her question hung in the air for a few silent seconds, whilst Blaine looked down at his shoes and became oddly vulnerable.

"Um...," his lip caught in between his teeth and then he straightened up, "Nope... sorry," lying through his perfectly white teeth, the serpent turned to look at New York flashing past them out of the window.

The smaller woman smirked, seeing the dishonesty behind Blaine's claim. She wasn't going to push it though, not when they only had five minutes before they were due to arrive. So, for the rest of the journey, they just engaged in more small talk.

Meanwhile, three cold, slightly damp assistants were huddled under one large umbrella, waiting for Isabelle to arrive so they could actually get into the fashion show. She had all of their passes so the only thing they could do was wait and pray that their most expensive items of clothing wouldn't get wet.

"Whose idea was it to come early?" Kurt spat through his chattering teeth, arms wrapped around him in an attempt to keep warm.

"D-Dusty," Travis replied.

"Actually, it was Travis," she snapped from a foot below the two men.

"Either way we're too early and I'm pretty sure my toes have fallen off," the fashion conscious man was dressed in white skinny jeans and nearly having a heart attack every time someone walked near him, fearing the back splash of the many puddles that circled his feet.

Luckily, a black car with tinted windows that held Isabelle and Blaine pulled up and few seconds later, much to the relief of the trio. The door opened and out came the two, smiling brightly.

"Ugh, I forgot he was coming," Kurt muttered underneath his breath once he caught sight of Blaine following Isabelle like a little puppy, "Look at him in his stupid pants and his stupid shirt and his stupid- Isabelle, Hi!," putting on a fake smile, he kissed her on both cheeks and followed her lead into the venue. Dusty and Travis followed suit and kept huddled close togehter for warmth.

Kurt tried desperately to keep his distance from Blaine as they walked to their seats, only to feel his heart sink when he saw he was to be sitting next to the viper for the entirety of the show.

"Dusty," he whispered, "Switch places with me,"

"No! You're taller than me and if I sit there I won't see the show past that woman's hair," she frowned and sat down without even considering swapping.

Kurt whispered something offensive but eventually sat down stiffly and didnt dare to look at who was sat to his right. Keeping his eyes focussed on the empty catwalk, he decided that now was the time to see if he could block out unwanted noise- in this case, Blaine's voice. He prayed that the show would jsut start sooner rather than later, but they were at least fifteen minutes early.

Blaine on the other hand, was delighted, and already conjuring up one liners to whisper in Kurt's ear at appropriate times during the show. The boy smelt divine, so Blaine subtly took another quick sniff of him to memorise the scent.

"Well, thi-,"

"Don't talk to me," Kurt cut Blaine off and raised a finger in his direction, coldly spitting his words.

"Oh come on... don't be so harsh about it," with his voice slightly hushed due to the quiet atmosphere around them, he continued to make dents in Kurt's shield.

"What part of don't talk to me don't you understand? Oh wait, I'm sorry, I don't speak snake," he wasn't even looking at the man, just talking through the corner of his mouth enough for him to hear.

Blaine chuckled, Kurt had latched his personality onto that of a snake for some reason and he found it adorably fascinating, "Don't worry, I'm fluent in passive aggressive princess,"

That was it. Kurt turned and finally made vicious eye contact with Blaine. His voice was quiet, but oozing with aggression. "What did you just call me? A passive aggressive princess?"

Blaine said nothing. He bit back a proud grin at the reaction he ha received.

"I can't believe you," with his tongue in his cheek, he began to raise his voice, "You sit there, thinking you are the most important person in this room and then call me a princess? Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"Kurt..." Blaine warned, his voice still quiet.

"No! Don't Kurt me! I have not done anything to you so I don't see why you should focus all your attacks on me," he stood up and started shouting directly at Blaine who was slowly rising to his feet to calm him down, "Don't touch me! I didn't want to have to talk to you today, I just wanted to enjoy the one opportunity I had at experiencing fashion week. And the reason I only have one opportunity is because you stole them all from me!"

By now, everyone was staring at the crazy shouting man and the smaller one who was holding his arms and turning red in the face. Isabelle was utterly mortified, yet intrigued as to what the dispute was all about.

"You disgust me!"

"Kurt people are staring,"

"You with your arrogant ways and the stupid way you look at me and try to get on my nerves well guess what, you've done it, you've broken me, I hope you are happy," from behind Kurt, two men dressed in black and with ear pieces hanging from the sides of their faces approached and took the arms of both boys.

"Excuse me, we're going to have to ask you to leave, you're disrupting everyone here, come with us please,"

Kurt's eyes widened and his jaw dropped, "W-what? No, no I'll be quiet I'm sorry, please," his apologies were not worth it, the cold hearted men were dragging Kurt and Blaine towards the door, which was closed behind them once they were shut out in the cold and the rain.

"No! Let us back in please! We're with Isabelle Wright!" banging on the door and sounding like a deranged fool, Kurt persisted until he felt a hand on his arm and heard Blaine tell him to 'calm down'.

"Get off me!" the rain lashed down on his face, ruining his hair and soaking his clothes, "This is all your fault!" he stopped shouting, and instead felt his eyes well up with tears, "I... I just wanted to watch the show...,"

Blaine's eyes became a little wider. He was witnessing a man break down in front of him and he was right- it was all his fault. Kurt was crying properly now, his hand gripping at his wet hair.

"This m-means nothing to you...because you've seen loads of these shows... but this was my one chance. I've n-never seen a fashion show!" he shook his head and choked out more strangled tears, "Y-you've taken that from me... and you've turned me into some maniac who stands out on the street in the pouring rain and shouts things like... like a crazy person,"

"I'm sorry," Blaine whispered, just as drenched as the man opposite him.

"I don't care! I don't care if you're sorry because guess what? I don't believe you're even being honest. Ever since you started at Vogue you've made it your mission to make me upset... I don't know why, but you have. What do you want from me? Is this what you want? You want me sobbing a-and and acting insane? Do you want m-me to kiss you again? Like how you forced yourself on me? I don't understand you!" he wiped his face and sniffed loudly, "I don't understand...," calming down a little, Kurt stayed where he was standing and looked at the floor, "Please, I'm begging you... leave me alone... let me just go by my daily life with some amount of dignity and please don't talk to me ever again, that's the only thing I want,"

Blaine let the rain fall heavily on his hair, revealing few curls here and there. The words he was hearing did hurt him, a lot if he was totally honest. So he just nodded, "O-okay... I'm sorry, I won't dsiturb you again, promise,"

Kurt took in a deep breath, then turned around and walked away with the small amount of dignity he still had left. It took a few more moments before Blaine actually moved, but he managed to find his way into the back of a cab and miserably mope all the way home. He'd never hurt anyone as badly as this. He'd never taken it that far. Sure, he'd been his cocky self with other men and waited for them to get as irritated as possible before he would lay off or in some cases, lay on top of them. But, never had he witnessed that much of an effect on someone. It was a little stunning to him, he had no idea how to deal with a situation like this. The most difficult part was, he genuinely cared for Kurt, deep down below the snarky comments and sharp remarks. Somewhere behind his mask, was a man who ddin't want to see Kurt as upset as he just was.

* * *

February 15th

The next day in the office, there seemed to be an odd, dul sense of peace and tranquility. Fashion week stress gone, the most exciting thing happening was when the coffee machine would over run slightly and go over the edge of the mug. The atmosphere was welcomed by every employee, though, having had enough of anything to do with runways and new clothing lines. For the first time in two weeks, the only sound that could be heard was the tapping of keyboards and a low murmur of voices. The Vogue office was at peace.

It had taken a lot of self persuasion for Kurt to even show up that day. The fear of catching sight of Blaine had sent shivers down his spine and borught a tear to his eye every time he thought about it. But he decided that if he didn't face it now, he'd never be able to. Without Dusty to talk to as they were still on rocky ground with their friendship, he relied on Travis all day for a little conversation but he had his own work to be getting on with. So that day was going to be pretty lonely for Kurt. He sat at his desk, waiting for a phone call or an order from Isabelle but they didn't come. Instead, he amused himself with a pad of paper and a pencil, doodling anything he thought of.

"Hey, did you hear?" Carol, an older worker, whispered, approaching the end of his desk with a hushed tone to her voice.

Kurt looked up and shook his head, "Heard what?"

"About Blaine, he quit this morning,"

Kurt's pupils became a little larger, and his lips parted but not enough to show that the news had any real effect on him, "Oh...Do you know why?"

She sat on the edge of his desk and continued, "He didn't say, he just turned up pretty early, before you even got here. He went into Isabelle's office to speak to her and when he left, he was carrying a box full of his things,"

"Oh I see... well, at least we don't have to put up with his slimy ways anymore," laughing uncomfortably, he then waited for her to leave before he let the shock show on his face. Blaine had actually sacrificed a job that anyone would rival just to please him. God knows where he would find another job like this, with as much prestige and elevated status. On one hand, he was relieved as he could turn up to work without dread, but on the other hand he felt bad about the lengths that Blaine had to go to just to keep the promise he made in the rain.

* * *

Blaine turned up to work very early that morning, not wanting to see Kurt or anyone for that matter. But he knew Isabelle was always there an hour before her employees arrived. As he walked through the office, the only person he recognised there was Carol, who would be at work early if her husband was looking after her twin boys. Giving her a smile and a nod, he carried on to the glass doors to Isabelle's office and knocked on the door.

"Blaine! Oh come in, you're here early," she stood up from her chair to greet him with a hug.

"Yeah... I needed to talk to you about something," bashfully, he scratched the back of his head.

Isabelle, a little suspicious, folded her arms and nodded as if to show she was lsitening. Not knowing how to begin, Blaine took a calming breath and shook his head, "I'm sorry but I'm going to have to leave this job...immediately,"

The smaller woman frowned and took Blaine's hand, "Why? Have I done something to upset you? Are you being victimised?" her voice was high and her face revealing how much she was panicking.

"No... No it's nothing like that, I'm... I'm moving, so...," the man shrugged.

"You're moving? Where to?"

"England," the lie left him before he could think it through.

She looked a little baffled but smiled anyway, "Well...I'm happy for you. I love England, you'll fit right in. But I am really sad to see you go," pouting, Isabelle pulled Blaine in for a hug with a sigh of sadness, "Do you have to go?" Blaine returned the embrace and bit his lips together, she was too nice to lie to but he had no other option.

"Yes, I'm sorry, I'm sad to be leaving...but, do me a favour?" Blaine raised an eyebrow, waitching as Isabelle nodded, "When I leave...can you give my job to Kurt? He's really hard working and-,"

Isabelle interrupted, "Kurt? The same Kurt that was shouting at you and got you thrown out of the Cavalli show?"

"Um...yeah. That little scene was all my fault anyway, just trust me when I say that Kurt deserves this job and he would do amazingly at it,"

Isabelle's face showed she was considering the proposition, Blaine watched on with anxiety, "Fine," she nodded, "Okay, he can have the job,"

"I love you, thank you so much," Blaine smiled for the first time since before the show last night, "Oh, but don't tell him we had this conversation, okay?"

"Okay...you have my word," she smirked, having a feeling she knew what was going on in that little brain of Blaine's.

The two shared their final goodbyes and then Blaine was walking the floor of the office for the last time, hands full of a cardboard box filled with odd things from his desk, convinced he'd done the right thing.

* * *

Later on that day, nothing more exciting had happened for Kurt. He'd spent a lot of his time dwelling on anything Blaine related and he wasn't even trying to stop himself.

"Mail!" Fiona, the mail lady, trudged down the centre of the office with her trolley of envelopes and parcels.

Kurt never recieved mail at his work place, so he paid no attention.

"Kurt," before he knew it, the trolley had parked up in front of his desk and Fiona was pulling a large cardboard box from the lower level of the trolley and placing it on his desk, "This came for you this morning, someone dropped it off downstairs,"

"Seriously? The last time I got mail here it was a birthday balloon from my dad," inspecting the box, he frowned in confusion as to who would be sending him large packages to where he works since he never gave that address out.

"Unless there's another Kurt Hummel around here, then yes, seriously," giving him a wink, Fiona waltzed off to give Travis a couple of letters, leaving Kurt stunned and intrugued.

"Well go on...Open it!" Carol urged from her desk a few feet away, to which Kurt nodded and started to tear open the box. As he lifted the four flaps at the top, what met his eyes was truly unbelievable. Inside, neatly assembled were at least eight stylish gift bags, all with different fashion labels accross the front of them. Picking one up, Kurt discovered it was from the Alexander McQueen shoot, and another had been brought from Louis Vuitton. He was completley lost for words. These bags were always filled with the kinds of things that Kurt would have to save up for months just to have a chance of buying them. Not a show was missed out, every single big name was there. Kurt's jaw dropped and he had to stop before he started drooling all over the beautifully beribboned gift bags. Who would have been so thoughtful and selfless as to do soemthing like this?

"Oh my God is that what I think it is?" Carol stood up and walked over to have a look inside the parcel, "Kurt these are all gift bags from every show Isabelle attended last week, she must have given these to you since she didn't let you go to any of them,"

"Yeah... I guess she did. Of course, it was Isabelle, oh she's so sweet," he said quietly, while peering inside the McQueen bag to see all the expensive treats it held, "I need to go and thank her," and with that, Kurt was skipping off to Isabelle's office with a spring in his step. Once he was inside, he threw his arms around the smaller woman and squealed, "Thank you so much! You're so incredible,"

Isabelle was startled and said nothing, only looked at him with a furrowed brow when he finally released her from his vice like grip, "What are you talking about?" she laughed.

Catching his breath, Kurt poked her playfully, "Oh don't be modest, you know what I'm talking about," he giggled.

"Um...no I don't," she smiled, trying to figure out what exactly was happening. Kurt's face fell slightly.

"The bags, you sent me a box? With all the gift bags in? F-From the shows?" he pointed behind him so the woman could see.

"Sweetie that wasn't me...,"

And in that moment, Kurt could have sworn his heart skipped a beat. There was no doubt in his mind baout who else it could have been, "Oh...well, sorry, I must have gotten confused, I'll leave you to it," he quickly dashed out of the office and back to his desk.

"What did she say?" Carol pryed.

Broken from the trance he was in, Kurt laughed and shrugged, "She said she couldn't bare to think of me without someting to remember fashion week by," he recieved a chorus of 'Aww's from everyone listening, to which he just laughed and put the box under his desk.

Once the buzz around Kurt's unexepcted deliviery had died down, he decided to look again into the box and see if there was some sort of card or a message. Sure enough, there was, tucked in between Zac Posen and Marchesa was a small card, it read:

**_Kurt, _**

**_Sorry there's not a Cavalli one in there, didn't have time to snatch it up before we got thrown out._**

**_Enjoy._**

A quiet giggle left him as he read the beautiful handwriting. The gesture was so sweet, it was almost unbelievable that it came from someone so awfully rude. Although he had told him never to speak to him again, Kurt was feeling a need to see the man just to say thank you. Having no idea about where he lived, this was going to be a little difficult so he forgot the idea completley. He kept reading over the message and biting back a smile, even though he was hating the man for becoming so nice after he decided to leave Vogue without a trace of where he was going.

"Kurt! I have more gossip!" Claire wobbled over in her heels and bent down in front of his desk.

"Do you ever not have gossip?"

"I found out why that Blaine guy quit,"

"You did?"

"He's moving to England,"

"What?" Kurt let out a breathy laugh, he didn't believe it to begin with, "E-England? As in six thousand miles away?"

"Yeah, Sally just told me,"

"Oh...," his eyes fell downwards, staring at the wood of his desk, not knowing how to react.

"Kurt are you okay?"

Not wanting to show how he felt, he smiled brightly and nodded, "I'm fine! Um... could you get me a coffee please sweetie?" Claire nodded and headed over to the machine hesitantly, leaving Kurt with tears in his blue eyes and a shaking bottom lip. He had no idea why he was reacting this way, Blaine was the worst type of person and possibly the most arrogant person he had ever encountered. But truly arrogant and snake-like men don't give a thousand dollars worth of gifts when they could have kept them for themselves. MAybe he'd misjudged Blaine's advances. Perhaps it was all Kurt's fault that he found him irritating, but now he woud never be able to find out. The bastard didn't even mention it in the note, he least he could have done was to warn him about it. Who takes a job for a week knowing they're going to move anyway? Kurt steadied himself and took the time to remember that Blaine was not his to miss, nor did he want Blaine to be 'his'. Blaine was the reason Kurt returned home last night with water pouring out of his Doc Martins and the reason he had to take two showers just to get the smell of rain water out of his hair. This was a good thing. Now, he could forget all about Blaine Anderson and remember why he came to New York- to be independent and succesful. And he would do this a lot quicker without a snake bite.

**AN/ Thanks for reading! It would mean a lot to me if you left a review. What did you like? What didn't you like? Anything. Tell me what you think of the characters, who you want to see more of or what you want to see more of.**

**Thanks again,**

**Laura**.


	5. The Top

**AN/ My response to reviewer: wAcKiEjAcKiE826- Yes, Blaine backed off very quickly in the last chapter, but this was because believe it or not, Blaine never really wanted to hurt Kurt. He wanted to get under his skin and and maybe fall into bed with him but the minute he sees Kurt falling apart and showing true desperation, Blaine understands that he's gone too far. Sorry it wasn't clear in the story but I hope this little explanation has made things a little clearer. Keep reading to find out why Blaine acts this way in the first place.**

**The Top**

February 16th

The hotel bar was dark. Beautifully modern lamps lit up every table and a waist-coated bartender stood pouring drinks and smiling at every customer. There was a pianist situated at the corner of the room, playing to provide accompaniment to the saxophone player soothing melodies over the dull tones of conversation. Sounds of glasses clinking and cocktails being stirred accompanied the piano, the room filled with a variety of people all dressed to the nines. Kurt had arrived at about half past seven, about ten minutes early to meet his old friend from school. Having promised to stay in touch with her, when he found out she was in town, they simply had to organise to get drinks in some place classy. He was dressed appropriately for the venue, mostly black with a flash of white. As soon as he was through the door, he shook off his umbrella and escaped from the heavy rain outside. Taking a few steps inside, Kurt headed straight for the bar and took a seat on one of the high rise stools. He ordered his drink and then tapped his fingers on the wooden bench. A place like this was perfect for people watching. Looking in the reflection of the mirror behind the bar, Kurt kept his eye on a tall blonde woman who looked like she had spent at least half of her earnings on plastic surgery. Red lipstick covered up the duck lips that she looked pretty proud of, and she had on heels that almost made her fall over when she stood up to powder her nose. Kurt started to wonder what her name was; probably something like 'Clarice' or 'Tabitha'. She probably had married that man who was now sat on his own for his money- it certainly couldn't have been because of that sexy beer belly or that appealing receding hair line. That's probably how she could afford to make her face look like a wax work. That poor man probably had no idea, he probably thought he'd scored lucky winning a girl like that. Kurt put his money on the man's name being something along the lines of Bernard or Anthony- poor guy.

"Meeting someone?" the bartender smirked at him whilst pouring his drink into a glass, bringing Kurt out of his analysis of the people that littered the hotel bar. He was a taller man donned in a waist coat and Andrew Garfield style hair.

Lifting his eyes to meet the other man's, Kurt nodded, "Yeah... she should be here soon, I'm a little early,"

"Blind date?" he raised an eyebrow. In response, Kurt laughed and dropped his head, shaking it with amusement.

"Oh, no... no, definitely not. She's just a friend," resting his head on his hand, he took the drink that was then handed to him. Everyone seemed to talk in hushed tones in this place, which is why the man who placed an order next to him caught him by surprise so much as he so confidently sat down and requested in a loud utterance, "A dry martini please." The voice was familiar; so familiar. _Dear God._ Kurt was completely frozen, hoping that maybe his tactic of remaining completely still would make him blend into the scenery and then Blaine Anderson wouldn't notice he was sat right next to him. He was there, of course he was. When did he last go somewhere that Blaine didn't follow? Kurt was so not in the mood to even have to look the same person he was yelling to not even a week before, let alone take battering insults from him. So, he kept his head down and stared down his glass. The dapper young man, despite Kurt's best efforts, noticed who he was sat beside in no time. He could tell just by the hair, smell and fashion sense combined. Unsure of how to approach this, Blaine went for the style of speech that made him the most comfortable.

"Did you get stood up?," Blaine whispered into his ear.

The blue eyed man couldn't just ignore him, so he slowly turned around and let his gaze settle on the handsomely dressed man who would no doubt shower him with insults in at least thirty seconds time.

"Did you follow me here? I believe this is not the first time you've shown up somewhere I didn't need you." Kurt's voice was quiet so not to draw attention to their conversation in the classy place, but the consonants of his speech were pronounced with a little extra diction just to remind Blaine of how cold he could be with him.

Blaine folded his arms on the bar and grinned, "I would never dream of following you, who knows where I could end up,"

Anxious to get this conversation over and done with, Kurt glanced over at Blaine and asked, "Are you here for a leaving party or something?" Kurt pursed his lips around the cocktail glass to occupy himself otherwise he'd look like an awkward wreck in front of the man he half expected to be in England already. In response, Blaine just looked confused and shook his head.

"Leaving party? For who?"

"For you...Jet setting off to England aren't you?"

The more heavily gelled of the two then stiffened, cleared his throat and began to prepare to lie through his teeth, "Oh... well, obviously I have a party planned for that, but this is just a meeting with a guy... Thought I'd get in as many dates as possible before I have to learn how to flirt in a way that translates to the British,"

"Aah... I see," oddly, Kurt had started to feel comfortable around Blaine when he acted arrogant, as he knew exactly how to respond to his quips in a way that kept him on his toes. Otherwise he would have to speak nicely to Blaine and he wasn't sure he knew how to do that yet. A martini was then placed on the bar and quickly swooped up by Blaine's strong fingers, who then took in a deep breath which only signalled he was about to go into one of his sarcastic comments.

"I'm surprised you even want me sitting here since you were yelling at me not long ago, basically telling me to fuck off and leave you alone," the comment hit Kurt like a slap in the face.

"I never said I wanted you to sit here... And you can understand why I was so upset. The only reason I'm not doing the same again right now is because we're in a very classy place and I would hate to cause a scene," avoiding eye contact, Kurt kept his glass held in the air with a slightly bent wrist, imitating the folk he would watch in old hollywood movies during their encounter with a mysterious lover. Blaine laughed breathlessly and shook his head.

"God no, making a scene in a public place- who would do such a thing?" he smirked in Kurt's direction, hoping his playful stab at his confidence would at least make him look him in the eyes again.

Unsurprised with how the conversation was going, it didn't take long before Kurt was acting like the insults didn't even bother him anymore, "Say what you want, Anderson, I am now officially Isabelle's assistant now that you're becoming a friend of Her Majesty," Kurt said in hushed tones. Blaine had to make it seem as if this was surprising news, he couldn't tell him that it was all his doing that meant Kurt had the huge opportunity in the first place. So, he turned on his best acting skills and raised his eyebrows in fake shock.

"Really? Well, congratulations. The job had to go to someone and since Isabelle's other two options were a confused red head with no qualifications and a guy who spends half his time sat on your desk talking about wonders of the world- I'm completely baffled as to why she chose you," the sarcasm oozed out of Blaine Anderson at an unbelievable rate. He ordered another drink after watching Kurt react to him with narrowed eyes and a flick of his hair.

"Wow... You can't even give me a genuine 'Well done'. Every comment has to come with a side order of venom," Kurt's eyes remained fixed straight ahead of him, occasionally he would sneak a glance over to Blaine but not for long enough that it would give the impression that he cared.

"I am happy for you, well done." There was a long silence after Blaine's comment where Kurt waited for the punchline. Surely nothing that left Blaine Anderson's mouth could genuinely be that of kindness or well-meaning. So Kurt persisted to wait, only turning to face the other man after a significant amount of time had passed.

"Is that it? No biting insult this time? Wow. Well, if you wanted me speechless, you now have it," Kurt spun around in his seat so that his elbow was resting on the bar and his crossed legs faced Blaine- thinking that he may as well talk to the man if he was so persistent on remaining sat by him. Noticing the change in body language, Blaine openly smirked at him and leaned even closer, so their faces were dangerously close.

"You're getting awfully confident for someone with an aversion to snakes," Blaine's low voice pierced through Kurt in a way that was too unusual for him to even put in to words.

"Oh don't worry, I have every intention of fighting this one off for as long as humanly possible," before Kurt could stop it, they had complete eye contact; something he'd been eagerly avoiding since the beginning of the conversation. He wanted to steer away from looking into Blaine's deep eyes as he knew they were his secret weapon, as soon as Kurt gazed into them he'd be mesmerised. Taking advantage of this new connection with Kurt, Blaine flashed a smile and coyly stated, "Come on... How boring is that?"

"Your drink, sir," another Martini was set down in front of Blaine, to which he smiled at the bartender but left it where it was- he was far too busy trying to win over Kurt since he looked so dashing in this light. Suddenly, Kurt's phone vibrated in his suit pocket so he quickly took it out and read the text message on the screen.

"Oh Damn it! My friend who I was supposed to be meeting tonight suddenly got this audition in Manhattan for backing vocals... She's completely blown me off," with a frustrated look on his face, Kurt slammed his phone back on the bar, causing a couple of stares from the likes of Clarice and Bernard. Blaine, on the other hand, looked a little more elated and just sipped his drink.

"That sucks... Who is this friend?" Blaine spun back around and leant his elbows on the bar.

"She's called Mercedes, she does a lot of vocals here and there. I'm patiently waiting for her first album because I know it's coming," as he recalled the memories of his old friend, Kurt slowly found himself slipping into a state of being more comfortable around Blaine and it was sort of unsettling. He'd been so used to turning a cold shoulder to Blaine whenever he came near and now conversation was flowing.

"She sounds like quite the character," Blaine smirked at him, knowing now that he had a lonely Kurt in the palm of his hand.

Kurt nodded, "Oh, she is. I was really looking forward to seeing her again,"

"Hey.. I have an idea. Why don't me and you leave here, go for a walk and go to the first fun thing we see. This is New York! And I bet you haven't even seen half of it, am I right?" Blaine's eyebrow raised towards Kurt with a knowing smile on his face. Kurt responded with an open jaw and a noise of shock.

"No! I've totally seen New York...,"

"Have you ever been to the top of the Empire State building?"

"God No," Kurt shook his head quickly, "No, heights absolutely terrify me,"

"You've got to be kidding me... You live in New York and you've never been up there?" an amused Blaine then shuffled closer to Kurt in an attempt to get on his good side.

"Some people have a real difficulty with heights okay? We can't all be high flyers, going to the top of the Empire State and.. going off to London," his sentence trailed off into a voice that could only be described as that a child would do when sulking.

The dapper young gentlemen grabbed his wallet from his pocket, slid his credit card on the table and winked at the bartender.

"No, Blaine. I don't want you to pay for my drinks," Kurt grabbed the card and shoved it back in Blaine's direction.

"What? You yelled at me on the street, you owe me this. Just let me pay for you, okay? Then you can buy me a watch or something," sliding the card back in the direction of the attractive bar man, Blaine then waited for the transaction to be completed while keeping a wary eye on his new date for the night. Kurt was pleasantly surprised at the gesture, a little smile forming on his lips. Surely, someone who was truly cold at heart wouldn't have been so gentlemanly towards him.

"I am not buying you a watch... maybe a pretzel," Kurt threw on his coat and his bag, the strap hanging off his shoulder easily. The two boys then headed for the door, the rain having stopped now, fortunately, "Wait! What about your date?" a hint of mischief rain over Kurt as he giggled with a hand over his mouth.

"Oh, he wasn't that hot anyway. Come on," Blaine practically dragged Kurt outside and ran them towards the Empire State Building since it was so conveniently near. A look of worry and apprehension had replaced Kurt's frosty expression as he felt his arm nearly being pulled out of it's socket by an excited Blaine who wanted nothing more than to show Kurt New York how it should be viewed. It was odd, he had no idea how to react to what was happening. It was like a movie was being put in fast forward and he wasn't allowed to press pause long enough to think things through. This was Blaine he was running through the streets with, _Blaine. _He had never envisioned himself doing this before. But Blaine seemed so eager to make Kurt's night memorable and special, he'd just saved him from having to go home alone after being stood up by his friend. That was nice of him. Also, if Kurt ever had any doubt of whether or not he should be going anywhere with Blaine, he just remembered the lovely package he received from him of the many gift bags. Those bags were lined up on a shelf in his apartment, since he was afraid to even ruin the beautiful ribbon work keeping the handles together. The least Kurt could do was humor his gesture and play along for a bit on this little adventure.

"Blaine! Slow down!" a contagious giggle left the taller man, a little out of breath from running so far. Blaine, however, was loving every second and keeping a tight grip on his arm. Soon enough, they reached the building and were walking a little more calmly inside. The queue was pretty long but Blaine, of course, had a clever way of discreetly weaving through the line so that they ended up pretty near the front.

"I can't believe the security didn't see us," Kurt whispered, clinging onto his bag.

"Trust me, in a place like this, clean cut young gentlemen are not the ones they're keeping their eyes on," looking around, all excited, Blaine shot Kurt a quick reassuring smile and rubbed his hands together to warm them up.

"Have you been here before?" Kurt asked.

"Once," Blaine nodded, "With a couple of my snake friends," teasing Kurt had become something Blaine really enjoyed, mainly because of the way it made the man's nostrils flare and his eyes roll so adorably.

"Surprised you made it through the revolving doors without getting all tangled up in the mechanisms," Kurt would only maintain eye contact for a few moments, the rest of the time he was eyeing up the queue ahead of them to see how long they had to wait. In all honesty, he was terrified. Heights were never something Kurt enjoyed. Blaine, as he was able to read Kurt like a book already, could tell just how nervous he was so he tried to keep his mind off of things.

"So, when does your new job start?"

Kurt rubbed his eye, "Um... Monday I think. I don't think I was listening very well, I pretty much blanked out after she told me,"

The other man just nodded in response and tried to hide the knowing smile that was started to show, keeping his hands locked in front of him. Suddenly, a thought came in to Kurt's mind that hadn't even occurred to him before that moment. He almost slapped himself for forgetting probably one of the the nicest things that anyone had ever done for him. Unsure of whether to bring it up or not, he started to ramble a little.

"Blaine? Um... You know, the other day. On the day you quit Vogue... Well, you sent me that package-,"

"Next group please step through security!" a large, burly man interrupted Kurt with his booming voice as he instructed them to step through the silver archway. A slightly annoyed Kurt stepped through with no problems and waited on the other side for Blaine to do the same. The boys were reunited but there was no chance for Kurt to finish what he had started saying as they were soon guided into a crowded elevator and sent straight to the top. Unfortunately for Kurt, the way they had shoved them in meant he had been pressed right up against his 'date' for the evening and was stuck that way for the long ride up. Not only was he basically sandwiched between Blaine and a fat Chinese man, his nerves were also going crazy.

"Sorry...," awkwardly, Kurt looked anywhere but Blaine's face and tried to pull himself away so their chests weren't pressed right up against each others.

"Hey, don't apologize, I'm quite enjoying it," Blaine chuckled.

"Shut up or I will throw you off the top of this building," the two of them laughed in unison and provided the only sound of the elevator sending them up way too high in the sky for Kurt's liking. He could distinctly feel the moment where his ears went 'pop' and that was when he was convinced they were going higher than most planes get. Blaine on the other hand was hardly ever scared of anything, only a few things truly got his blood rate going but heights weren't one of them. After about three minutes, they had reached the top.

"Shit... We're really high up aren't we," a shaky voice left Kurt's lips just as the elevator doors opened to reveal another set of glass doors to the viewing deck. Blaine took his arm and patted it gently.

"We are... but this is where you get the best view," it only took a quick glance for Blaine to realise that Kurt indeed had his eyes shut as tightly as possible, "Kurt you're gonna have to open your eyes,"

"No... No I don't want to," in retrospect, Kurt knew he would hate himself for letting Blaine see him so vulnerable and pathetic. But right now, keeping his eyes closed seemed like the most logical thing to do- at least then he couldn't physically see how high up they were.

"Kurt. I'm going to walk you to the viewing deck whether you like it or not because I really want to see the view," when the stubborn man said nothing, Blaine took it upon himself to guide Kurt through the crowd and to the very front of the large number of people. He pressed Kurt against the metal railings and stood behind him. Kurt knew they were outside from the cold air that had hit him.

"Jesus, Kurt this view is beautiful. You have to see this. It's New York at night! The city that never sleeps," Blaine's eyes were wide with an overwhelming sense of joy. Seeing every single streetlight and neon sign collected together to form the consolation of lights that formed the New York skyline was not something he was going to let Kurt miss out on, not when they'd made it all the way to the top.

"No, I'm fine just stood here and letting you see it," with his eyes still shut and his legs shaking like crazy underneath him, Kurt held onto the railings and felt his teeth chatter.

"Stop being such a baby and open your fucking eyes. What's in front of you is the second most beautiful thing you will see, right after me," he closed the gap between them and grabbed both of his shoulders, "You're safe, just open your eyes,"

The touch on his shoulders made Kurt relax a little more, even though normally it would have made him only tense up more. Blaine was being so reassuring. So much so that Kurt was willing to open his eyes just to check if it was still the same man talking to him.

"Come on." Blaine whispered.

Slowly but surely, Kurt's eyes peeled open and he was met with something that was so stunning, he almost fell backwards into Blaine's arms. They were so remarkably high up, yet the view took him back too much for him to mind that much. Every single bead of light in front of him made his eyes twinkle. Blaine was right, he really hadn't seen New York properly.

"Oh... my God,"

"Incredible, isn't it? This is the city you live in and this is the first time you're truly seeing it... am I right?" Blaine sighed.

"Yeah...," Kurt breathed out in response. Neither one of the boys had yet noticed that Blaine was practically wrapped around Kurt, since they were pushed up against the railings from the other many people on the viewing deck. They just spent a few moments gazing out into the night, Kurt's mind was completely free of thoughts about their past and he could only bring himself to think about every single story that New York held.

"See over there?" Blaine pointed a finger through a gap in the rails and waited until Kurt was looking, "Can you see the Statue of Liberty? She looks pretty small from here...,"

Kurt nodded, focussing on the green statue for a moment, "I thought she was bigger than that...," his voice was raspy from the cold air in his throat but he managed to speak to Blaine about every little thing they could see.

"It's because on all the postcards, they put her in the foreground which makes the skyline behind her look a lot smaller,"

"I see... God it's just so beautiful," reaching for his camera, Kurt held the lens up to a larger viewing hole and took a few snaps of the view so that he could prove to everyone who knew him well that he actually went to the top. Blaine stepped back a little to give him some space for the picture, looking around to see if there was any space on the other side of the deck so that they could see New York from a different angle.

"Look," Kurt turned his camera towards Blaine to show him the picture he'd just taken, obviously a little proud of it. Blaine nodded and smiled, "Amazing,"

They then spent the next fifteen minutes walking to every one of the four corners of the viewing deck, both completely speechless at each one of the views they took in. Blaine had developed a habit of guiding Kurt along by placing a hand on his waist, yet Kurt didn't seem to squirm away- must have been the disorientation of being so high up. The smaller man would keep eavesdropping on other people telling interesting facts about the view and then would confidentially recite them to Kurt so that he would seem all-knowing and extremely well versed in the secrets of the city. Kurt, of course, caught on to his little trick but decided to humor him anyway, nodding along as if he was impressed. At least it showed Blaine cared enough to want to make Kurt think he genuinely knew all of this stuff. When it was time to go return to ground level, Kurt was stood in the elevator flicking through the pictures he had just taken, smiling at them, "I can't believe I went to the top of the Empire State Building, and I wasn't even scared!"

"Oh sure, Mr- 'I'm not going to open my eyes'," Blaine teased, Kurt nudged him in the ribs.

"But I did open my eyes, didn't I? And I wasn't scared then,"

"Whatever you say," Blaine lead them out of the elevator and then out of the building and into the night. Kurt ran out to the pavement and started to look right up at the top of the building. He pointed upwards to it and smiled brightly, "I was just up there! That's crazy!"

The heavily gelled man shoved his hands into his pocket, walked up to Kurt and chuckled, "You are crazy. Stop yelling in the middle of the street again, you seem to have a habit of doing that," he winked.

Starting to walk down the street with a considerable gap between them, Kurt stood with a higher posture and began to build up a wall again, "I only do it when I have good reason. Like when a bastard like you gets me kicked out of a once in a lifetime fashion show,"

"Bastard? That's a little harsh... didn't think Mickey Mouse club members like yourself were allowed to say such things," and the comments were back, Kurt was foolish for thinking Blaine would ever come without the stupid little sarcastic quips. Kurt laughed to himself and stopped walking. He felt like someone had just slammed him back down to reality after he'd been sat on a nice cloud of false hope.

"Why do you do that?" he asked, confused.

"What?" stopping, Blaine raised an eyebrow.

"You take me on an exciting adventure and treat me really well, making me feel protected and confident enough to go up however many feet we just went up, and then when we get back to reality- you treat me like crap again," shrugging his shoulders, he folded his arms and stared at Blaine, the other people on the street only narrowly dodging them as they walk through.

Blaine rolled his eyes, "Kurt, please don't yell again. We don't want to start a scene,"

"I'm not going to start a scene, I just want you to answer me. Then there'll be a chance that maybe I'll go home thinking you're a small percent less of an asshole," Kurt was remarkably calm, mainly because he had nothing to lose in this situation. The man opposite him just tilted his head to the side with a small smile.

"Or maybe you'll go home with me?" Blaine's suggestive lift of an eyebrow just had Kurt groaning and turning on his heels to walk away.

"You're unbelievable. I can't believe I started to think you were a nice guy, I'm so stupid. But you know what?" he spun around and pointed a finger to Blaine, "I don't need to worry about you anymore because you'll be moving soon and then I'll never see you again," Kurt smiled smugly and turned to leave once again. Blaine grabbed his wrist and forced him to stop.

"Kurt. Stop. Please, can we talk for a little longer please?"

"Why should I subject myself to more insults from you?" Kurt tried to pry himself away from the man's grip on his wrist but it was useless.

"Because I need to tell you that I'm not moving to England," that certainly made Kurt's resistance stop, instead he turned to face Blaine with furrowed eyebrows and his lips slightly parted.

"What? But... But I was told-,"

"You were told wrong, listen," reluctantly, Blaine pulled Kurt aside to a small patch by the side of a building that mean they weren't blocking the flow of passenger traffic. He really didn't want to have to tell Kurt was he was going to but he had to now, to prevent Kurt being completely confused as to what was happening. Blaine had to wait for a few moments as a the New York soundtrack became a lot louder for a few moments as there was a near car accident behind them. But as soon as the car horns stopped, Blaine was able to take a deep breath and start to speak.

"Kurt...," he looked at him straight in the eyes, "I told Isabelle that I was moving to England, because she wanted to know why I was quitting so suddenly. And...," Blaine let out a loud sigh, "And then, I asked her to give my job to you," with wide eyes resembling that of a puppy, for the first time, Blaine's voice seemed genuine and he had no punchline to throw at Kurt.

There was silence. Kurt was still looking confused but with his lips closed together firmly, he knew he had to say something in response, so he just whispered, "Why?"

"Because...," Blaine started, "Believe it or not, I do think you are very talented and you deserve the job more than anyone else," feeling extremely vulnerable, Blaine avoided eye contact and stared down at the floor. His armour had been stripped from him and now he was stood bare for Kurt to judge him and make up new ideas about the sort of person he was. He hated this more than anything, mainly because he wasn't in control of the situation. He felt naked without his smirk.

Kurt was taken aback, even though it was not the first time Blaine had managed to leave him speechless, "I... can't believe you did that... I thought you would have done anything in your power to make sure I didn't get it...,"

"Oh, and you think I was going to let that dumb Dusty do it? I respect Isabelle a whole lot more than that. She deserves an assistant who actually knows what they're doing," Blaine ran a hand over his hair to smooth it down.

"Thank you, Blaine...," Kurt searched Blaine's eyes with wide pupils and shook his head.

"You're welcome,"

The eye contact suddenly became too comfortable for Kurt's liking so he took it upon himself to look away and smile at the ground, "I um... I guess I should go, it's getting late," he started to take a few steps back.

"Sure," Blaine nodded, "I think it's starting to snow now anyway, so, you better go before it gets bad," he looked up as snowflakes began to fall on his skin.

"Thank you again, Blaine. I don't know what I can do to make it up to you,"

"Let me take you out," Blaine replied without hesitation, "Properly. I want to take you to a nice meal, and I'll pay for everything. You can repay me by doing me that honour. Unless you're scared I'll make you face another one of your fears,"

Kurt giggled, rubbing his reddening nose with a gloved hand, "What are you gonna do? Take me out for Chinese and then make me bungee jump off of the Chrysler?" walking back, he began yelling his words to the man with a big smile on his face.

"Why not? The sky's the limit!" Blaine threw his arms out to the side which made Kurt laugh a little louder.

"You're insane!"

"Maybe. Just promise me you'll meet me right at this spot at seven tomorrow,"

"And what happens if I don't?"

"I find the next most attractive guy walking past and offer him the meal- simple,"

Kurt, rolling his eyes, waved his hand at the man and turned around to walk away. He could tell Blaine was still stood there so he flashed one quick glance over his shoulder and nodded, "Fine. I'll be here. But only because there's free food involved. Don't start thinking I actually like you as a person or anything,"

Blaine's perfectly white teeth shone through his lips as he beamed back at him, "Oh, I wouldn't dream of it!" he then turned around and both men went their separate ways in the snow.


	6. Goodnight

**Goodnight**

February 17th

"She hasn't spoken to me properly in three weeks... The only time we've got close to a conversation was when my chair leg was on her bag strap and she had to ask me to move off it. Even then she kept her request as short as possible and didn't look me in the eye," Kurt ran his fingers over the edge of his coffee mug, then let them rest on the handle. He and Travis were sitting on the high rise chairs at the window of their favourite coffee place- 'The Blue Chair', talking about the current awkward situation with Dusty that hadn't faded since the incident at the sleepover. Travis was dressed head to toe in last vintage clothing; his trademark look, and completed the outfit with his trusted thick rimmed glasses.

"Well, she probably feels really awkward around you. I mean, wouldn't you if you tried it on with a guy who turned you down?" Travis asked, Kurt only nodded in response and busied himself with drinking his coffee, "All I'm trying to say is, give it time and she might feel confident enough to treat you as a friend again. Then she can be an award winning hag,"

The two boys sipped at their drinks and the topic of conversation soon changed when Kurt glanced at his watch, "Shoot, I have to go. I'm meeting someone in an hour and I look like I just rolled out of bed," grabbing his coat, he frantically tried to pull it over his sleeves.

"Who're you meeting?" Travis raised an eyebrow, setting his mug down. Kurt flung his bag over his shoulder and stilled himself for a moment.

"You're not gonna like what I'm gonna say," he warned.

"Why? It's not one of your exes is it? Oh God, is it Michael? Because I never felt right about his obsession with Sarah Palin,"

"No. God no, it isn't Michael," Kurt snorted, a little bemused at the question, "I got right out of there as soon as he suggested we roleplay as 'Palin and McCain'," they both laughed at the memory, then shuddered a little, "Anyway, I'm just going to meet this guy for a meal. He said he'd pay and I'm broke at the minute so I couldn't really refuse,"

Turning around in his chair, Travis leaned forward in suspicion, wondering who could possibly be so awful that Kurt was refusing to mention his name, "Who is it, Kurt?"

"It's Blaine," Kurt finally breathed out after a steadying pause.

"Blaine?!" he exclaimed.

"Yes! Now will you keep your voice down?" Kurt hushed, stepping forward so he could grab Travis' hands to make sure he was listening, "I know he's an idiot, but last night we ran into each other at the bar by work and he was strangely nicer than usual," Travis listened, still getting over the initial shock, "We ended up going to the top of the Empire State Building and it was honestly the most fun I've had in a while. What harm can come from just going for one crumby little meal?"

"So much harm can come from that! He's probably playing you. He'll corner you with nice meals out, fancy gifts and compliments and then bam!" Travis slammed the table, "You're left so heartbroken you can barley even walk on the streets of New York for fear of seeing his little weasel face," Kurt stood there for a moment, staring at his friend with furrowed brows and a look in his eyes that signalled he was judging him in every possible way.

"That is ridiculous. I am not going to let him leave me heartbroken because he's not going to have my heart in order to break it. And it's just going out for dinner, chill out," sipping the last part of his coffee, Kurt then headed for the door after turning to Travis one last time to say, "And he doesn't have a weasel face,"

He knew there was some element of truth to what Travis was warning him about. After all, he barely knew anything about Blaine and what he did know he only liked about fifteen percent of. Every fibre of his being was hoping that when he met up with the man, he would meet the Blaine that made him open his eyes at the top of the Empire State Building and not the Blaine that made him want to bite a Cyanide pill. There was just nothing predictable about Blaine Anderson, he was a complex character, for sure. However things were going to turn out that night, Kurt had no hesitations about making an effort with how he was going to look. So, he wore his newest purchase; a beautiful dark red blazer with a safety pin brooch. Underneath- a buttoned up, crisp white shirt and a thin black tie. And his pants were black, denim and looked as if they were painted on. He took an extra fifteen minutes on his hair, Blaine wasn't worth any longer than that. Then, he was ready to jump in a cab and head towards the same spot they left each other the night before. It was just beginning to get dark so they streets of New York were just beginning to illuminate in that beautiful way that made Kurt fall in love with the city.

"Thanks," Kurt waved to the taxi driver after he was dropped off on the street corner, then immediately started to look around for a familiar face. Granted, he was a little early so he wasn't going to stick pins in a Blaine voodoo doll just yet. He looked around him whenever he heard a voice that sounded remotely like Blaine's, although none of them actually belonged to the man himself. Growing impatient after ten minutes, Kurt headed to the nearest railing and leant up against it, getting his phone out to occupy himself. An unknown number then called him, so he answered with a confused, "Hello?"

"Kurt?"

"Blaine. Where are you? How did you get my number?"

"I called up Isabelle's office and asked for it; simple," Blaine's voice brought an eye roll on from Kurt, along with a grumpy stance as he waited silently for Blaine to answer his other question.

"Yeah, I'm running a little late. What are you wearing?"

Kurt's face twisted in bemusement, his eyes squinting as he tried to figure out why Blaine would ask such a question, "What?"

"Are you dressed smartly?"

"Well of course I am. This is me we're talking about. Why does that even matter?"

"Never mind, that's all I wanted to know. Be there in a sec!" and with that, Blaine hung up, leaving Kurt stuttering out to a dial tone.

"But Blaine what- God dammit!" Kurt shoved his phone back in his pocket and then began to wait for an uncertain amount of time. Luckily, after about five minutes longer, a smirking Blaine appeared from the crowd of New Yorkers. He looked even more handsome than last night; possibly the most attractive Kurt had seen him. Now _that_ sight surely was worth waiting the extra fifteen minutes for.

"You waited for me," he stated arrogantly.

"I made the effort to come out here and paid a taxi fare, I'm not going to miss out on this free night out," Kurt eyed him with his lip caught in between his teeth, "Now are you going to explain the question about my choice of clothing tonight?"

Blaine snaked his arm through Kurt's so they linked and began walking, Kurt didn't fight against the action as it felt surprisingly comfortable, "Well, I was worried they wouldn't let us in if you showed up in you're patchwork jeans or a feather boa,"

"Oh please, like I'd waste a good boa on you," they both laughed for a moment. Before Kurt could ask about where they were going, Blaine stopped them in front of a five star restaurant. One of the most talked about places in the area. A bowl of soup at this place cost the amount of Kurt's shoes and the after dinner mints are flown over from France. Kurt let out a laugh of disbelief, trying to drag Blaine away so they could keep walking, "Okay, very funny, Blaine. Come on, let's keep walking. I'm pretty sure they don't like people staring through the window,"

Blaine stayed put, loving how naive Kurt was, "Kurt," he said simply as he made eye contact with the boy beside him. The silent communication through that one look was all Kurt needed to know what Blaine had planned. He was stunned. He brought his hand up to cover his mouth and his eyes visibly squinted up as a result of his hidden smile.

"Don't joke with me. If you're kidding with me, I'll throw you into the road,"

"You wouldn't dare. And I'm not kidding. I only eat in style, come on," Blaine then dragged a stunned Kurt into the restaurant and held his hand until they were seated. The feeling of having Blaine's hand in his was odd. Part of Kurt wanted to yank his hand away because he remembered every bad emotion Blaine had ever made him feel. But the other part of him never wanted to let go because this same man was treating him to the most amazing dining experience he'd ever had, and making him feel comfortable along the way. The natural thing to him was to let Blaine grip his hand, so he said nothing. After the two men sat down opposite each other and gave their orders for drinks, their eyes fell upon each other's again.

"I can't believe I'm sat in here," Kurt whispered, not wanting his voice to exceed the already established sound level in the room.

"I remember my first time in a place like this, too," Blaine recounted as he placed a napkin on his lap, "I'm used to it, now, of course,"

"Oh, of course," the taller boy rolled his eyes, "Well, for me this is a really big deal. So thank you for this," a sincere expression fell upon Kurt's face. Whether Blaine accepted it or not, Kurt wanting him to know how genuinely grateful he was. Blaine nodded and shrugged, "It's no problem,"

They shared another moment of silence before their drinks arrived. For Blaine, a cocktail and for Kurt, red wine. Kurt felt like he had been dumped into somebody's else's life for the night, it was all so alien to him. Taking a sip of his wine, Kurt glanced back over at Blaine who was fiddling with his tie awkwardly, almost breaking character. As soon as Blaine looked up and saw Kurt was looking, it was like a switch had flicked inside of him and he was straightening his spine, smirking and taking a sip from his glass, "See something you like, Hummel?" the change was so peculiar, so much so that Kurt's eyes were still narrowed when he was being spoken to. He just rolled his eyes once more and set his wine glass down, "Don't flatter yourself."

Blaine cleared his throat and sat back in his seat, "How's work? I suppose it's a dark and dreary place now that I've gone,"

"Oh, it's totally unbearable. I don't think I've seen anyone smile since you're highness left our presence," Kurt's sarcastic smile wrapped around his glass, his eyes still trained on the man opposite him who was smiling in that sickening way.

"I can imagine," Blaine laughed out.

"So what are you doing now that you're no longer working at Vogue? You must be getting the money to eat at places like this regularly from somewhere,"

"Actually, I'm not working anywhere. I have savings," nonchalantly, he raised his hand to a passing waitress who courteously bent down to his level and gave him a warm smile.

"Yes, sir?" her thick, British accent floated through the air. She had the voice of the Artful Dodger and a youthful, inviting face. Probably an aspiring model.

"Can I get a bottle of champagne for the table? Thanks,"

"Of course, sir," she nodded and headed for the kitchen with a brisk skip. Leaning his cheek on his fist, Kurt ran his fingers around the top of his wine glass subconsciously.

"I hope you don't think I'm being forward but do you really think you should be splurging out on luxuries like champagne when you're out of a job right now? Isn't that normally the time people start to make cuts here and there?" he suggested, a little wary of how Blaine would react. He had no idea whether or not he was the type to get touchy over money. Blaine's expression was verging on insulting, he looked at Kurt as if he'd just said the most stupid thing ever and laughed.

"Kurt, trust me. It's not a problem. Let me worry about what I spend my money on and you worry about straightening your collar," Kurt frowned and reached for his collar to check if it was alright, to which Blaine let out another burst of laughter, "Ha! Made you look,"

"You son of a-,"

"Champagne, sir?" the familiar waitress arrived holding a bottle with the cork already popped. Blaine's face lit up.

"Ah! Perfect, thank you. Cute accent by the way, where are you from?" the man asked whilst she poured them both a glass.

Obviously remaining professional with a bright smile, she answered, "Hackney, Sir,"

"Is that in London?"

"Yes, Blaine, it's in East London," Kurt butted it, a little smug that he was able to win one over on the almighty Blaine Anderson. Of course, Blaine wasn't too please about this but he shrugged it off with a teasing look, "Thank you, Kurt."

"Will that be all, Sir?" the waitress asked, leaving the bottle on the table with them.

"Yes thank you...," Blaine paused, obviously waiting for a name.

"Oh, Charlotte,"

"Thank you, Charlotte," giving her a wink, she hopped off into the kitchen, leaving Kurt and Blaine alone again.

"She was cute," Kurt chimed, sipping the champagne which was probably the most expensive drink he'd ever had in his mouth.

"You're cuter,"

Kurt spluttered on the drink mid way down his throat making a grotesque snorting noise, a hand going to his neck as he set the glass down and composed himself. Clearing his throat with an awkward laugh, he glanced back up at Blaine and nodded, "Oh... Ha. Thanks," The reaction was embarrassing to say the least, let alone uncalled for. He was just so shocked to hear words like that come from Blaine's mouth. Kurt managed to settle himself opposite Blaine who was smug with himself, knowing he got the desired reaction from this, now blushing man.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make you choke,"

"What? Oh no. No that wasn't you. The champagne just went down the wrong way and I have a tickly throat anyway," he highlighted his lie by indicating to his throat with his hand, "It's nothing,"

They spent a further two hours in that three Michelin starred restaurant. Making light conversation, joking with Charlotte who turned out to be an endearing and genuinely interesting girl and most importantly getting to know each other just a little bit better. Of course, the night didn't go without snarky remarks from Blaine. Comments were made about Kurt's clothes, his hair and his fascination with period dramas. However, Kurt was able to bounce back to the attacks in a way that kept both of them laughing and the dynamic between them as sparky and unpredictable as fireworks.

"I am telling you, Dame Maggie Smith and I use the same nightly face cream," Kurt insisted as they walked out of the restaurant, laughing away like a pair of old friends who'd known each other all their lives.

"Well then, good luck preventing wrinkles because her face isn't exactly as smooth as a baby's ass," Blaine's comment received a swat on the arm from his companion, which he should have anticipated it, really. Kurt, utterly appalled and slightly tipsy on champagne and red wine, walked ahead and folded his arms, "She is a treasure. Those wrinkles are simply tokens of every stressful role she's ever had to worry over,"

"Alright, don't cry about it. Taxi!" Blaine raised his arm to a passing cab.

"Where are we going?" Kurt questioned as he got in the vehicle.

"Where do you want to go?"

"Oh... Um. I don't know,"

Blaine closed the door behind him and looked over at the porcelain man, "How far away do you live? Let me pay for your cab fare home, at least if you can't think of anywhere else to go,"

Kurt, now blushing slightly, began to smile in Blaine's direction, "How very gentlemanly of you. Either you drank too much of that champange or you're lulling me into a full sense of security before you murder me in an alley way," he leant forward to the driver and gave him his address and within seconds they were moving. Kurt only lived about ten minutes away, which they spent most of in hysterics at the most random things. They were obviously still on a slight high from the champagne and the excitement over how good their dessert was.

"Stop! Stop, I can't breathe," Kurt gasped out, clutching at his stomach as he brought his knees up in laughter. Blaine was just as bad, chuckling louder than Kurt had ever heard him. With all the noise they were making, neither of them even realised the cab had pulled up in front of Kurt's apartment building; nor did they hear the driver ask for the fare.

"Oh God, sorry. How much please?" wiping his eyes, Blaine forked out the fifteen dollars and handed it to him, "Keep the change,"

"Well, I guess I'll see you around," Kurt said, his hand resting on the door handle.

"At least let me walk you to your door. I know these streets can be rough at night," Blaine insisted. Not wanting to refuse Blaine's courtesy, Kurt nodded and exited the cab with him following closely behind.

"You baffle me sometimes," with his arms wrapped around him to keep warm, Kurt's eyes stayed on the ground as the two of them walked up the stairs to the door. Blaine looked a little confused but maintained his dapper smirk.

"Oh? Please elaborate, oh wise one,"

"Well, I just never know how you're going to act. The first time I met you, you practically told me I was shit at my job and now here you are, walking me to my door to make sure I don't get mugged and left for dead," he sighed, fishing through his large coat pockets to find his key, "I guess I'm just a little shocked at how good your company has been tonight,"

Blaine's hands were in his pockets and he was leant up against the door frame, gazing on at Kurt's lips, studying the way they moved when he spoke, "So basically what you're trying to say is that on the douchebag scale, with ten being the biggest douche on the planet, tongith I scored a four?"

"Maybe a five," Kurt winked, before shoving his key in the lock and turning it, "So, are you going back home in the cab?" just as Kurt went to signal to the taxi they'd arrived in, he quickly noticed it had left, "Oh... You could call for another one inside?" after the question, they looked at each other for a few seconds before Blaine just nodded and muttered a 'Cool, thanks'.

The inside of Kurt's apartment didn't shock Blaine at all. It was black and white with the occasional dash of colour, art work on the walls and a book case set up on one wall. The only part that shocked him was that Kurt managed to do all of this on a budget.

"Nice place, Elton John," Blaine teased, obvioulsy hinting at the red mini piano in the corner of the living room. Kurt threw his coat on a hanger and flashed him a glare, "Elton John would only dream of having a place as well decorated as this,"

"Always so modest, Kurt," the dark haired gent grabbed the phone that sat on a mahogany table which he assumed was one of the antiques Kurt always boasted about finding in flee markets. Kurt noticed he was calling for a cab and quickly made his voice heard.

"You don't have to call for the taxi right away. I could make us a coffee andI have all these cupcakes that my grandmother made for me that I need eating up," he knew he wasn't exactly being subtle about the fact he wanted Blaine to stay, but Blaine seemed to be relieved at Kurt's suggestion. He set the phone down and sat himself down on the couch.

"A coffee sounds great. And I'll never turn down free food,"

Kurt hopped off to the kitchen and began preparing two mugs of coffee, using his four dollar coffee machine and mugs he'd taken from his Dad's house when he moved out. He wasn't going to lie to himself, he was genuinely pleased that he had Blaine in his living room. He'd had a really enjoyable evening, so why not extend it a little longer?

"Here," returning with two mugs of coffee in his hands, he handed one to Blaine and then sat a suitable distance away from him on the same couch.

"Thanks,"

"Sorry it's not like the standard of coffee you're used to. I've had to make cuts for the sake of my bank balance recently," Kurt said over the rim of the mug.

"Well, you'l get a salary raise with your new job, right? So hopefully soon you'll be able to buy yourself some decent coffee," Blaine made a face after tasting the beverage and set it down on the coffee table.

Kurt hid his face behind the mug, "Don't be an ass,"

After a few moments, Blaine started to look around him, "You live here on your own?"

"Yeah. I did have a roomate up until about six months ago but she fell in love and now she lives with him. It's alright for some, I guess," with an obvious bitter tone to his voice, Kurt's hands remained clasped around his coffee which he could actually tolerate, unlike his date. One of Blaine's hands was propping the side of his face up, and the other was absentmindedly playing with the pillow on his lap.

"I see. But you're still friends with her?"

"Oh, best friends. She's a sweetheart,"

"That's nice. I would have expected some diva bitch fight if Kurt Hummel was involved,"

"You're just scared because you know if you ever fought me, I would take you down," Kurt put his mug by Blaine's and leant back againt the arm of the couch.

Blaine laughed, "You wish," he gently kicked Kurt's thigh, recieving a gasp from him.

"No fighting in my living room. I have too many breakable things,"

"Well if we can't fight, can we do this?" Blaine's movements were slick and fast, Kurt hardly had time to think before the man was on his hands and knees and kissing him. It was different to the time in the office, it wasn't aggresive or done to prove a point. Blaine's lips felt different and he was kissing him in an almost apologetic way. Kurt melted into him and brought a hand up to the back of Blaine's neck, pulling him closer. He sucked on the man's lower lip for a few seocnds before the pulled apart mutually. Letting out a calming breath, Kurt stared into his eyes and began to smile, "Um... Yeah I guess we could do that,"

They both dove in for another kiss, this time more hungrily. Kurt's arms flung around Blaine's shoulders as they sunk further down in to the leather couch. Neither man was really thinking of anything, just how amazing it felt to be kissing the other. Tangling his fingers in Kurt's hair, Blaine let out the tiniset of moans into his mouth, tentatively sliding his tongue into the wet heat as soon as he felt Kurt was okay with it.

"Blaine... Blaine wait,"

"What? Is everything okay?" Blaine asked, just as breathless as the boy beneath him was.

"Yeah yeah, just-," Kurt grimaced as he took his phone from his pocket and put it on the floor, "It was digging into my thigh, that's all,"

"Oh," relieved, he ducked back down for another kiss, taking Kurt's breath away the minute their mouths touched.

They kissed for a few more minutes, Kurt's hands exploring probably a bit too far for a first real kiss. At one point he found himself dangerously close to Blaine's ass so he quickly moved them to his hair, although there wasn't much he could do to penetrate the gel. Blaine was a good kisser, definitley. But the place where he really excelled was when his lips moved to Kurt's neck, leaving him completley speechless. That was the moment when Kurt's mouth dried up and all he could do was just breath heavily and try to keep himself composed. They seemed quite content to keep going until Kurt's foot pressed a button on the TV remote, startling them both as the dulset tones of Honey Boo Boo flooded the room. The two of them laughed at their reaction and the hilarity of the situation soon bringing them back down to earth.

"Interupted by a six year old redneck, who'd have thought?" Blaine chuckled, straightening himself up as he moved from on top of Kurt.

"What a shame. I was beginning to enjoy that," Kurt teased.

"Beginning to? Come on, you were yanking me down with all the strength you have," crawling back over to him, he placed a playful kiss to his lips, smirking as he did it. Kurt giggled from the back of his throat, stealing yet another kiss.

"Just shut up," his voice had turned into more of a growl, pulling Blaine as close as possible by his jacket. Neither had bothered to turn off the TV, so as they continued their increasingly steamy make out session, Honey Boo Boo informed them that she was 'Gettin' a pig called Glitzy'.

Kurt, unable to control himself, snorted out a laugh against Blaine's lips, "Oh my God, I'm sorry. I just can't stop laughing at that girl,"

Blaine groaned in mock annoyance, lifting himself off him, "I should probably get going anyway. I'll leave you to your reality television," with a wink, he stood up and grabbed his coat.

"Oh. Okay. It's pretty late though," Kurt, rising to his feet, played with his fingers nervously and shrugged, "You could always crash here? I still have a spare room from when Rachel used to live here. You don't have to, of course, I was just thinking you could get a better nights sleep if you stay here rather than trying to get a cab around this area at midnight,"

Blaine looked to the door, then back to Kurt, debating to himself whether or not to stay, "I guess it would make it easier for me to get to my job interview tomorrow. It's pretty near here,"

"You have a job interview?"

"Yeah. Gotta work somewhere now that you've stolen my job. It's for Macy's,"

"Macy's? Wow. I thought you were more down the business end of fashion. You can't be happy selling clothes to people when you've just come from going to fashion week as a representative of Vogue?" Kurt took a step forward towards Blaine.

"Yeah well, it's something,"

"Why don't you try for my old job? It's still open I think,"

Blaine scoffed, "Go back to Vogue? On a lower salary? Doing a job beneath you? Sending flirty emails to you? Maybe sneaking a kiss in the elevator sometimes?" Kurt started to grin as Blaine continued, "Getting to see your ass in those ridiculously tight jeans every single day?... That doesn't sound too awful,"

"So you'll apply for it?"

"Sure. I'll call Isabelle tomorrow,"

"Great. That's great," scratching the back of his neck, the taller man then kicked his heels on the ground to fill the silence, "So um... I'm gonna hit the hay. Got an early morning tomorrow. I've gotta go to a few meetings with Isabelle about the Summer issue, so,"

"Which room am I sleeping in?"

"Oh, sorry. That one right there," Kurt pointed to a door at the opposite end to Kurt's room, "There's towels and everything already in there. I'm always prepared for visitors. My Mom always said I was a good host,"

Blaine gave a polite nod to Kurt and headed to the room, turning just before he dissapeard into it to say, "Goodnight, Kurt,"

"Goodnight," he replied in a whisper.


End file.
